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Chapter Text

Steve had tricked him into going to bed early the night before (he’d gone on a three day lab binge- he’d had an excellent idea, thank you very much-) and Tony had promised the man that they would spend the day together, possibly a lunch date, agreed to something about pumpkin picking that Tony hadn’t paid much attention to.

Steve, however, was still asleep. And Tony was not. So he slipped out of bed around five in the morning, had sat by his husband’s side for ten minutes longer than he’d meant to (he so rarely woke up before Steve that he never really got to watch him sleep), and had at last shaken himself enough awake to get up, toe on his slippers, and head downstairs. He’d be back, yes, but there were things he wanted to do now-

But Friday had other ideas for him apparently. No sooner had Tony stepped into his lab than she was bringing him problems. “Boss, you wanted me to report any anomalies registered at Stark owned properties,” she said in lieu of greeting him.

He blinked, mid opening a holograph from the night before. “Sure, baby girl. What’s up?”

“There are strange readings coming in from your parents’ house.”

That caught his attention. “What do you mean ‘strange readings’?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Suspected paranormal activity, boss!”

He fell out of his chair.

Friday had alerted Steve to him falling, which was decidedly unfair- “this isn’t what we put those safety protocols in place for at all and you know it,” he groused to Steve when Steve had come down (Steve was wearing the bunny slippers that Natasha had given him last Christmas, which only made this whole thing more absurd)-

He’d run the data- inconclusive. He’d called Bruce and Strange and Thor. They hadn’t had answers for him. Each had promised (to differing degrees) to follow up with the readings in their own way. He didn’t have a lot of faith that any of them would come back with an answer.

Really, when you had a problem, who better to fix it than yourself? He was going to have to go to the source of the problem.

Several of the others had offered to come with him. His husband, yes. Happy. Natasha and Sam. Even Bucky. He’d politely turned them all down, turning the idea of heading back there- back where he hadn’t been in over twenty years- over in his head and disliking the idea of it all. He didn’t want to go back. He did. He wanted to go alone. He wanted-

Peter, he’d thought that morning, in the middle of shaving. Peter was a scientist (alright, a teenager who loved science, but semantics) and Peter was fun, wouldn’t spend too much time worry about his feelings, was super strong, and, and this was important, really needed a break from all the bullshit that teenagers put up with.

He’d sat down with Steve and May that night before he suggested it to Pete. “Do you think that there’s anything actually to find there?” Steve asked. “Of the nature that you’re suggesting?”

“The data’s got to be wrong,” he’d said.

“You’ve never said shit like that before,” Steve began.

“But that’s not really the point, is it?” May said, her pretty brown eyes piercing his.

He’d smiled at that. “Right. Even if we don’t find these things… Pete will find it interesting. And Pete’s my priority.” He tilted his head, looking at Steve. “Think I’m going about it wrong? Think it’s dangerous?”

Steeve had shaken his head. “I know you would never put him in danger,” he’d said. “And I would never let you put yourself in harm’s way either. The readings are weird. You and Bruce think they’re benign. Fine. I just worry about you going back there. Won’t it make you sad?”

And Tony had smiled. “Maybe a little,” he’d allowed. “But Pete will enjoy it, I think. A little science experiment and some quality time with his favorite-” May had snorted, catching his eye. “Favorite superhero,” he said smoothly. “And maybe it’s time for me to face things as I left them. I never went back there…”

And then Pete had come back from patrol, looking quizzically at the three adults gathered around the kitchen table and Tony had held up his mug of coffee, held it out for the kid actually- “Got a proposition for you, Petey. Should you wish to accept it.”

Briefly, he outlined what he knew- strange readings at his family’s home, unclear what the cause was, did not seem to be dangerous. He withheld Friday’s conclusion. He wanted to see what the kid would think when he got there, uninfluenced by speculation.

The kid had accepted. He was still curious, after all. After everything that had happened. And that was good. There was still a lot of potential there. Tony was glad.

They’d watched a movie, Pete curling into Steve’s bulk, the blond super soldier wrapping himself around the teenager, his chin resting on the top of Pete’s head. May had opted to sit on Peter’s other side and had patted the seat beside her, so things hadn’t really been all that bad- Tony had made popcorn for the two of them to share and they’d curled under one of her afghans and when it had been time to go for the night-

He’d held Pete’s face between his hands, aware that the other two adults were watching him and finding that he didn’t care too much. “Hey, baby,” he murmured. “You’re so loved, you know? Thanks for agreeing to come- we’ll start out next Thursday. You get some sleep. Use the card I gave you to get some breakfast tomorrow, huh? Please?”

“Yeah, Tony…”

Curling his arm around Pete’s shoulders, he’d pulled him into a hug. “I love you, Pete.”

Chapter Text

And on Thursday-

“You know that you don’t have to bring me flowers every time you come to visit, don’t you?” May asked, accepting the bouquet with a smile nevertheless. “Come on, come in.”

“It’s good manners.”

“I feel like I’m being wooed and I happen to know you’re a happily married man.”

“I like bringing you flowers,” he said, finding her a vase. “Platonically,” he assured her, and she laughed, plunking the bouquet in and fluffing the flowers up. “Is he still asleep?”

“I woke him up, last I heard he was in the shower.”

“Want breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

They sat at the kitchen nook and soon enough, Pete stumbled out, pulling a jacket on (one of Tony’s jackets sure, but at least he wore them). “We’re getting breakfast, baby,” he called. “I’ll even let you have your ridiculous coffee order.”

“Nice, nice…”

They found a little diner outside of the city. Tony and May kept a steady stream of conversation up; Pete was clearly not awake yet. He rested his head on May’s shoulder and let them pick his food for him, consequently they ordered him a little bit of everything (“oh, he’ll eat it,” Tony assured the waitress when she expressed concern- “growing boy and all that”)-

Tony stirred his coffee reflexively, waiting for their food to come. He hoped they would have fun. Deep under all his calm pretenses, he was beginning to feel twinges of anxiety gathering and he didn’t really want to tell his spiderling about that unless it got worse, but really, Steve was kind of right- it was kind of strange to go back after all this time. But he wanted it to be good. He just had a weird sense that there was something waiting for him there. Probably not what the readings were indicating. But something.

Pete had come awake somewhere around the second helping of french toast. “What are we going to eat this week, Mr. Stark?” And he’d rolled his eyes. Typical teenager- always thinking of food first.

They’d gone shopping- May had helped- and loaded the car with groceries. Pete had mainly stuck to finding them snacks. “Does he know we can’t eat that much chips and dip at our age?” he’d mumbled to May.

She’d swatted him playfully. “I’m younger than you,” she reminded him.

It had all seemed funny, at the start. They’d switched May out for Pete’s bag of clothes and then they’d been off. The old Stark mansion was far outside of the city- Momma had liked to be separated from the hustle and bustle of it all (and probably from her husband’s affairs early on)- and it was going to be a three hour drive.

The first couple of hours had gone nicely. Awake now, Pete had cajoled him into singing along with the radio- Tony never felt confident enough to sing quite as loud as Peter- and Pete had fed him a mixture of takis and oreos that had left him feeling frankly queasy. He liked it more than he would admit.

But…

They were getting closer now; Tony was recognizing landmarks that he hadn’t seen in decades and still apparently looked for- and the sky was getting darker.

“Think that’s a bad sign?” Pete asked, looking worriedly at the cloud above them.

“Anything could be a bad sign if you’re looking for one,” he said lightly. “Think it means it might rain. That’s all.”

“I thought it was going to be pretty clear all day. Are we close?” There was that knee again. Tony let him- maybe it helped.

“About ten more minutes, I’d say, Roo.”

“So you’ve never been back here?” Peter asked nervously, peering at the foliage breaking open above them. “Not since…?” He didn’t complete the thought. Tony didn’t need Pete to finish it. He hadn’t been back to this place since he’d found out his parents had died in a car crash. A car crash leaving this house.

“No.”

“Oh,” Pete said. He had more to say. Tony knew he did. But Pete was clearly trying to keep his babbling to a minimum. His knee jangled instead. Unfortunately for him- and Tony- teenage nerves combined with super powers meant that Pete’s anxiety was causing the whole car to shake. And Tony had never minded Pete’s babbling.

He opted to say more. Tried to at least. “No, I never thought I’d come back here. Doesn’t hold a lot of good memories.”

He reached out to grip Pete’s bouncing knee and the teenager stilled. “Sorry, Tony,” he mumbled. Tony waved that off.

“It’s fine, Roo. Listen-” He pulled to the side of the road. There had never been a lot of traffic on this road; it didn’t matter if he pulled over to the lip or not. Stopping the car, he looked over at his teenage companion. “There’s no need to be so nervous, Pete. Okay? I’m not upset, am I?- look at me, please-”

“I’m not nervous. I’m just, I don’t want- You-” The teenager stumbled over the words. He squeezed the kid’s knee once more, waiting as patiently as a man like him could wait. “I don’t want you to be sad,” Pete said finally. He rushed to add, “But it’s okay too, if you do- that is- you feel what you feel-”

“Petey, I’m the adult,” he said finally, trying to be very kind in the way he spoke because Pete was so good to him. Pete was too good to him, in fact. “I appreciate you being so thoughtful with me, but you don’t need to worry about my feelings. I’m doing my best to break the cycle of shame. I’ll talk to you if I’m feeling sad or-” He waved his hands. “Something else, but- I’m with you. And I love being with you. You’re my favorite kid. So I’m not sad at all.”

Pete had smiled faintly at that, but he still looked worried. “It just seems big, that’s all. You haven’t been home in, what… 20 years?”

“Longer actually.”

“Don’t you want someone better than me to go with you? Like Happy or Rhodey or one of the Avengers-? Your husband?”

“Not that they didn’t offer, but I’m kind of looking forward to showing you the house, Pete. This is where I grew up. You can see what a dork I used to look like- see where the magic happened-” Should he tell Pete that while many had offered, the only one he’d really wanted had been him? Probably too emotional. Besides. He had many reasons to want Pete to be with him, some he could tell Pete, some he’d prefer to keep to himself. Get to spend more time with him. Try to get him to open up again.

He tugged on Pete’s hand, rubbing the knuckles with his thumb, and now he brought it up to press a kiss there. Pete’s old burn wounds flashed white in the change in light. “I bet you were the biggest dork,” the teen said then and Tony chuckled.

“Please. Only second to you, sir.” He turned the car back on. “Thanks for joining me on this weird little vacation.”

“Why did you want me?” Pete asked quietly, his eyes straight ahead.

Fine. He could let Pete in on the plan a little bit. Peter deserved that. “This is my family’s home. It’s where I grew up. It’s my past. You’re my future. I wanted you there.”

“You’ve said that before…”

“That you’re my future?”

“Yeah, that.”

He chanced a glance at the teenager. “I won’t say things like that if they bother you, honey.” Pete shook his head sharply. “You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind. I just don’t know what you mean.”

“Ah.” Tony’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel. “I always thought I’d be a bad dad,” he offered up. “Didn’t have a great example. Never planned on having kids. Then you crash landed into my life- literally- I tried to avoid having a relationship with you. Not my best hour. I was afraid-”

“Afraid of what?” Pete asked quietly.

He smiled faintly. “You’re so good, Petey, I thought I’d mess you up. But you belong in my world. You are my world. I couldn’t deny my love for you anymore than I could willingly stop breathing.” He felt tears come to his eyes and he blinked them away, hoping Pete didn’t see them. The thought of losing Peter still made him a little crazy sometimes. “As long as you’ll have me in your life, I want to be there. That’s what I mean.”

“You want me there… to bring things full circle?” Pete asked.

Tony flicked him a smile. “Exactly,” he said.

“Okay.”

He smothered a laugh. Turning the radio up, he did his best to keep up with the rapping from the Hamilton album- that never failed to amuse Pete- and after a moment, the kid started to sing with him. Good.

“Almost there,” he added, fifteen minutes later.

Peter was chewing actively on his lip now. Tony had never imagined that Pete would feel so strongly about this trip- it seemed to be giving him anxiety- but then, Pete was very empathetic. “Hold my hand, kiddo?” he asked, and the kid’s hand shot out to grasp his. He didn’t know if he was trying to help Pete or himself at this point.

“I’ll have to show you the house again when it’s not so dark,” he mused, turning at last onto the road the mansion was on. “We’re coming up on it.”

“Oh.”

There were a couple of drops on the dashboard. Tony tried to ignore that. Oh, god. They were going through the gates now. His stomach plummeted uncomfortably.

“Who mows the lawn?”

He liked the way the kid’s mind worked. “I pay for a service to come and do the lawn through the season. Someone cleans the house too.”

The rain was picking up now, tapping insistently on the windshield. “It’s so big,” Pete marveled.

It was. The house was located on a hundred acre lot; the front yard had always been foot after foot of manicured lawn and careful landscaping, the driveway was practically a street in itself. Someone had planted trees on both sides of the driveway a long, long time ago, and they’d grown together, reaching out to each other, tangling branches- they cast dark shadows that flickered over them as they drove, and there-

There was the house. So big. Imposing. All brick and windows and carefully sculpted gardens. It had never been a home. Not the way that the Compound was. Not the way the Parkers’ apartment was. It stood like a fortress amongst the solitude, light flashing off the windows, like eyes blinking at them. Christ.

Pete was pressed up against the glass, and jumped when a bolt of lightning streaked the sky. “Oh, shit,” the kid mumbled- Tony grinned at that (he loved it when the kid swore)- and then the sky opened up.

Rain nailed down on all sides.

He turned up the windshield wipers- they flew across the windshield. It really was coming down. The sky was dark. He flicked on the low beams of his headlight. “Don’t worry, kiddo, there’s a section we can park in that’s covered. You won’t get wet. We’ll get you inside.”

“Was it supposed to rain today, Mr. Stark?”

He looked over at that- Pete only reverted back to his formal title when he was really anxious. “I don’t think so, but I didn’t think to look at the weather over here.”

He pulled around to where the garage was- it had been a horse stable a long long time ago, he remembered- and he got out before Pete could say anything, running through the rain to open the garage door. He got back in the car, pushing his hair out of his face. “I thought you said we wouldn’t get wet.”

“Mm, I said you wouldn’t get wet. The garage never had an opener- it was last worked on in the 80s after all.” He pulled in. Pete got out after him, staring out at the rain which was hitting the ground with such force, it was bubbling back up and threatening to flood the garage. He blinked when Tony began taking bags out of the trunk. “I’ve got that,” he said, snatching them from the engineer’s hands.

“Alright, let’s open the door and we can bring things in. Then we’ll get the groceries.”

He ducked around some of the cars still in the garage- his father had also liked to collect cars and Tony had never had the heart to remove these ones- and made his way over to the door leading into the house. This was weird. He wasn’t sure he liked this feeling. Maybe Steve had been right.

Fitting the key into the lock, he turned it, hearing the click. The door swung open. He knew where the light switch was and instinctively reached out for it. The lights clicked on.

God.

He hadn’t been here for nearly thirty years. It was hitting him in a way he didn’t expect. This was his mother’s kitchen- the wallpaper with the teapots, the blue curtains at the windows, the good china on display in the cabinets- Each surface was burnished wood. There was the table in the middle where he’d play cards with Ana. His heart was hammering.

Pete shuffled behind him, and he realized he’d been standing on the threshold. “Sorry, Petey,” he said, moving into the kitchen. Pete put the bags down on the floor carefully. ‘Pull yourself together,’ he told himself sternly. “Let’s go get the food and put it away. Then I’ll show you around. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Pete said, sounding dazed. He seemed distracted. He was looking around like he expected to see- what?- Tony didn’t know.

“Good boy. Good.” He forced himself to sound more enthusiastic. “Thanks for coming with me, Pete. You’re a comfort to me. Truly.” He hoped that didn’t sound as stupid out loud as it did in his head, but Pete’s chest swelled perceptively, so maybe he’d done something right. “I’m going to make you lasagna tonight. My mom’s recipe.”

“Kay.”

“You’re going to help me. I need you.” Pete grinned at this. He nodded, focusing more on Tony now and that was good.

“Come here,” he said thickly, gesturing Pete into his personal space. “I won’t get you wet, I just-”

Seizing the kid by the face, he pressed his lips to Pete’s hairline. “You’re just the guy I wanted to be with. Thanks, kid.”

“I like being with you, Tony,” Pete said softly. “Thanks for inviting me. Thanks for always being so kind.”

He swallowed back a thousand silly admissions, thought about telling Pete that he loved him but figured he should wait. Peter was still getting used to this newer version of him; his old self never would have been this touchy feely as it was- Still, he feathered his fingers through Pete’s hair, scritching at his scalp.

“I love you so much Pete,” he said, breaking his resolution almost immediately. “I missed you.”

Pete stiffened just for a moment and then he relaxed into the hold. “I’m here, Tony.”

“Good. Good boy. Stay with me, baby.”

Peter gave him a familiar grin. “Didn’t come all the way out here just to avoid you.”

“That would be stupid and you’ve never been stupid,” he agreed. “Okay, enough schmaltz. Let’s put the food away in the fridge. Get ourselves set up here. It was a long drive.”

“Yeah…” Pete was already heading back towards their car. Tony stopped on the threshold of the room, glancing back. Being here was strange alright. He felt like they weren’t alone. He dismissed the thought.

Chapter Text

They packed away the groceries quickly- Pete was chaotic but efficient, Tony had to give him that- and Tony waved him off when he tried to lift their bags. “Later, later,” he said absently. “Let me show you the place. This was the kitchen- obviously. My mom liked to cook. Jarvis and Ana also used the room routinely, but they had their own place in the guest house you saw. That was my father’s butler and his wife- they looked out for me,” he explained.

“You named your first AI after your father’s butler?” Pete asked carefully, looking around the room with bright interest.

“That’s right. Jarvis was like a surrogate dad to me- he died in ‘97. Now the kitchen is closed off because this house was built- and was used- to be formal. So if you go through this door, it’s the butler’s pantry- watch your step, it’s crooked there, it always has been- and then through this door-”

Tony backed through the room, towing Pete in his wake. He spun on his heel, flicking on the next set of lights and illuminating the dark formal dining room. Such a long table for such a small family…

“Woah. Is this where you ate?”

“Formal dinners only,” he said, looking at the wood paneled room. He rested his hand on the small of Pete’s back, guiding him along, out into the back hallway behind the stairs. “This place is essentially a Clue board made real. Beyond the dining room is my father’s parlor- think of it as a combination office, library, smoking den, and pool hall. He didn’t want me in here-” He opened the door, looking into the dark room but seeing something different, seeing it with Dad’s banker’s lamp on, the way smoke would curl out of the edges of the door frame-

Pete looked up at the ceiling just then, frowning a little, but then seemed to relax. Tony furrowed his brow but continued- “And honestly, I didn’t really want to be in here, half the time. You could have choked on the cigar smoke. Dad and his friends were prolific.”

But he breathed in the smell of it, thinking that he could almost feel his father beside him now. He’d honestly missed his parents only intermittently over the years- they’d never been around much when he was growing up- and he tended to miss his mom more than his dad, but he felt a pang now.

There was the chair Dad liked to sit in, there was his tumblers of gin in the corner, here was the spot where Tony had spilled ink on the rug- Dad had whalloped him for that-

“Let’s keep going,” he said lightly. “What I’m looking for could be in any of these rooms. We’ll have to spend more time in each, for better or for worse.”

He brought him on through the library, his mom’s music room, and the conservatory (“Your family actually had a conservatory? Really?” Pete asked incredulously, looking at all the barren pots.) “Yeah, it was Ana’s hobby,” he said offhandedly, wishing he’d kept the plants alive at least. She’d passed the year before Jarvis. “Come here. This was my favorite place to hide.”

He gestured Pete out onto an enclosed porch that ran the length of the northern end of the house. The rain drummed down on them, a steady timpani against the glass curving over their heads. “We won’t stay out here long- too risky with the lightning- but look here.”

Pete bent down to look where he was pointing and grinned. “Your parents must have been mad.” Tony had carved his name into the floor some forty five years ago. He looked down at the childish writing, wondering if he was the same person after all this time.

“They never found it,” he said, grinning now. “I used to sit on it if they’d come out. They never saw it.” He snapped a picture of the carving, sending it to Steve, and, after a moment, Natasha as well. “Let’s get back inside,” he suggested.

“There’s no TV,” Pete said next, looking around the living room.

“Momma thought it was gauche to have a TV in the living room. There was a den in the basement; that’s where the TV was. And I had one in my old bedroom- you’re going to laugh at it.”

Pete did a slow pivot on his heel in the front hall, looking at the high ceiling, the family portraits on the wall. Tony only had eyes for his teenager. Christ, but Pete still looked thin. “You never said what it was exactly you were looking for?” Pete asked, calling him back from his thoughts.

“Kind of hard to describe what I’m looking for,” he said evasively. “Trying to get a clearer picture of whatever it was that Friday picked up on. Thought I’d take a look at what’s in the house at the same time. Two birds, one stone. Some childhood mementos, I guess you could say. Things that tell my history or whatever- a project my therapist suggested. We won’t bother looking tonight.”

“No?”

“Nah. There’s no rush.”

The tour of the upstairs went much quicker. Everything looked the same as it always had. He hadn’t been in his parents’ bedroom since he was five- the expectation after that had been that he wouldn’t need any help. He cast a quick glance around and stepped out; there was no room for sentimentality right now. Pete wouldn’t find this interesting.

“That was my aunt Peggy’s room when she visited,” he said, tapping the door across the hall. “These are guest rooms- we’ll find one for both of us before we turn in for the night- and here’s my old bedroom.” It was the farthest one from his parents. Funny how he’d always accepted that. Now it seemed crazy. He’d known Pete for two years now, but he’d put the kid in the room beside him and Steve, wanting him close…

“Woah, this is your room?” Pete was practically vibrating with excitement. He’d crowded Tony at the door and was peering over his shoulder. Tony stepped aside and let the kid wander into the middle of the room.

Walls, an ugly green color his mother had chosen. The desk, preternaturally clean. Posters on the walls that they’d disagreed sharply about, books everywhere, the quilt his mother had made him as a baby folded at the bottom of the bed- An airplane above his bed. His dad had helped him put that together, a rare occasion indeed. The plane was twisting lazily as he looked at it and he frowned a little, not understanding, but…

“You want to snoop through here, kid? I’ll start making dinner.”

“Can I? You don’t mind-? I won’t break anything-”

“I know you won’t, kid- and it wouldn’t matter if you did. I’ll be down in the kitchen- I’ll come get you when it’s ready if you haven’t lost interest by then.”

He doubted Pete would lose interest though. When he closed the door behind him, Pete was spinning in a wide circle, examining everything like he was in a museum. Christ. He probably did feel like he was in a museum- most of the stuff in there was from the ‘80s and early ‘90s.

He didn’t go downstairs right away though. He wandered back over to his parents’ room and twitched the curtains open. Still raining outside and the sun had gone down all the way now. Kind of creepy. He’d forgotten how secluded this house had been from everything around them; somehow it felt different from the Compound. Sitting in his dad’s armchair, he surveyed the room. Tony closed his eyes. If he concentrated really hard, he could smell his mom’s perfume…

“You always smelled like flowers,” he said aloud.

Scoffing at himself, he pushed up off the armchair. He paused at the top of the stairs- he’d thought he saw a movement, but it was just the curtains blowing in the breeze… Straining his ears, he could hear Pete in his bedroom.

He padded into the kitchen, humming under his breath. He trailed his fingers along the counter- no dust. Tony had to give the cleaning service credit- it looked like people were still living in this house.

He turned on music, needing something to split through the silence of the bottom floor. The house had always been so big, growing up he’d felt like he was living alone. He turned on the Eagles and sang under his breath while he chopped tomatoes. Cooking was good. Cooking was a distraction…

“Tony?”

He jumped; thankfully, the lasagna was already in the oven. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. “You’re so quiet,” he complained. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry- were you just upstairs?”

He squinted at the kid. “No. I’ve been down here. Why?”

Pete shook his head, shrugging. “Oh, I thought- but it was nothing. I thought I heard something, but I looked around for you and I didn’t see you. So I came down here.”

Tony furrowed his brows. He looked at the oven- thirty minutes to go on the lasagna. “Let’s just take a spin through the place. We’ve got the time. Get our steps in for the day.” He kept his voice light. Pete wasn’t buying it though.

They went through all the rooms again, Peter pinned himself to Tony’s side, even though Tony was trying to make it appear that he wasn’t worried. And he wasn’t… but he kept his hand in his pocket, the technology to form a suit around himself primed to go. Pete was just super tuned into him, he knew. Always had been. More so now.

There was no one there. They’d looked through all the rooms. Tony released a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Must have been the storm,” he said at last. “Come on, Pete. You must be starving.”

“Did you really make your lasagna?” Pete asked hopefully, tapping down the stairs after him.

“Of course, my little gremlin. And you seem to have ensured we have dessert so…”

“I got brownie mix,” he said, enthusiasm coloring his voice and driving out whatever nervousness had been there before. “May and I make brownies on stormy nights so this is actually perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t help with the lasagna.”

“I’ll make you take the lead with the brownies.”

“I was going to anyway, you can’t bake to save your life…” He faked offense, taking two plates down from the cupboards and finding the napkins and cutlery. Pete took each article in turn, setting them up at the table.

“So tell me this story about Ned,” he said finally, pushing the kid down at the kitchen table.

He sat, listening to story after story, while Pete wolfed down a solid half the lasagna. He kept up a steady supply of bread, pushing pieces into the kid’s hand whenever he paused. He and May both thought that Pete was still too skinny- it was hard keeping up with the kid’s enhanced metabolism, no matter what they did…

It was strange, being here like this, in his parents’ old house, sitting at the table where he used to play cards with the Jarvises and Momma had taught him to make the lasagna he’d made for Pete tonight. He felt inordinately fond of his teenager. Pete practically rambled. He leaned against his elbow.

“What are you staring at?” Pete asked finally, catching his eye.

“You, Mr. Parker. I was thinking of how quiet my life used to be before you were in it.”

“Oh, you love it,” Pete said automatically, grabbing both empty plates and loading them into the sink. “Make brownies with me?”

“Of course.”

He let Pete call the shots, pulling out bowls and measuring cups when the teenager prompted him. It surprised him how well he still knew this kitchen. If he didn’t turn his head, he could swear the Jarvises were right behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck actually stood up at the thought. “Is it cake mix or brownie mix that’s good to eat raw?” he asked.

“Technically neither if you want to live to old age-”

“Oh, please, like you don’t eat raw cookie dough-” He swiped his finger through the batter, sampling it. “It’s brownie batter I like,” he decided.

“Glad we figured this out,” Pete said in his best serious voice.

“I’m all about the scientific experiments, you know this.” He snapped a photo of Pete, dropping it into the Avengers group chat.

“So we can’t watch TV,” Pete said conversationally, after they’d popped the dessert in the oven. “Could we play a game? Could we play lots of games?”

“I get to pick the first game,” Tony said, privately thinking that his mom would have had a conniption if he’d sat on the counter tops the way Pete was right now. He hoped wherever she was, she was seeing this. “We can’t play Clue, unless the resident ghost joins us.”

“Ooh, don’t joke about that. This place could be haunted,” Pete said, hopping down. Tony’s eyebrow twitched but the kid didn’t notice. He dragged a duffle over- it was full of board games. “Lucky you- I packed my favorites.”

“Lucky me,” he murmured.

Many hours later, he found himself carrying the kid upstairs. Pete was a deep sleeper and he was grateful; it was awkward, carrying a teenager anywhere- he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore- and he accidentally banged Pete’s foot on the balustrade, but otherwise, he thought he’d done pretty good.

He picked two rooms in the middle of the hallway (there was one door that wouldn’t open- he’d have to fix that tomorrow), dumping the kid on the closest bed he could find. “Thank god you wore sweats today,” he mumbled, dropping a kiss on the kid’s forehead. They’d get the bags tomorrow.

He sat at Pete’s side, holding his hand for at least a half hour. If the kid asked, he’d deny it later. Still, he sent a quick pic to May with the caption, ‘sleeping well tonight.’ He hoped this would continue.

Pete sighed in his sleep, curling onto his side. Tony held his breath. Sometimes it came back to him, that first night after they’d found him, sitting at his bedside in the med wing. Bruises fading as the hours went by and he’d memorized them, knowing he’d need to know how each one had come about, knowing he’d have to cajole Pete into explaining each one if he was going to heal.

Pete hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Still didn’t. He’d cried the first time Sam had tried to bring it up and Sam had looked wrecked, but it had been Tony that had made him bring it up with the teenager.

Getting up, he took his latest project out of his pocket, a mini arc reactor which lit up when he pressed the center of it. He left this on Pete’s bedside table with a note that he scrawled onto a scrap of paper-

‘Come get me if you have nightmares. Any time, Pete- Love, Tony.’

He slumped into the room next door, shedding his clothes in a line. He sighed, climbing under the covers. Hopefully it wasn’t going to rain this whole week. He opened his chat with Steve, tapping out a message and sending it on its way.

The house settled and creaked around them. It was strange to be home.

Chapter Text

It was still raining in the morning.

Tony woke up sometime around ten in the morning- he’d had to fumble through all of his clothes to find his phone- to the smell of bacon creeping around corners and up the stairs. He showered quickly- he’d fix his beard later- and he climbed into yesterday’s pair of jeans and a henley.

He thought he heard a huffing noise behind him in the hall, but there was nothing there. “You’re too young to be senile, Tony,” he mumbled to himself, jogging down the stairs, and, oh god, that was a familiar feeling. He almost expected some snide comment from his dad about his appearance as he ducked through the living room and towards the kitchen but there was nothing- his dad had been dead 25 years now-

He squinted at a magazine that had been left open on the couch; that seemed odd, he thought. Why would Pete be reading a gardening magazine, that wasn’t really his type, was it? He started towards the magazine, meaning to pick it up-

But he heard a bang and he was distracted.

He ducked into the kitchen. Peter was there, holding his head and wincing. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“Hit my head on the cabinet,” Pete groused. “There was something shiny on the shelves down there, but then I got startled and-”

“That’s quite a goose egg, my little magpie,” he said thoughtfully, catching Pete’s head in his hands briefly to examine the swelling, but Pete was already pulling out of his grip and he let him-

“The bacon’s going to burn,” Pete explained, snatching up a pair of tongs.

“You let me sleep,” Tony said blithely, pushing around Peter to help cook.

“I wouldn’t dare go in your room, knowing you sleep in the buff-”

He laughed at that. “I don’t do that when you’re around. I had a very tasteful and modest pair of boxers on. Blankets. You could have come to get me.”

“Alright, well I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked next.

Pete considered this. “New places are hard to sleep in,” he said finally and Tony nodded, letting him have that one. “It’ll be better tonight.” And, almost shyly, he added, “thanks for the arc reactor, Tony.”

“Little memento you can remember me by,” he quipped.

Pete snorted. “You won’t tell Steve I need a nightlight to sleep, will you?”

Steve already knew. He’d sat with Tony while Tony had made this latest prototype. Still, Pete had his dignity to preserve. “It’s not mine to tell anyone,” he swore. He waited until Pete had put the tongs down again. “But you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Pete just hummed. Tony bumped shoulders with him. “I was afraid of the dark when I was a teenager.”

“Come on, really?”

“Really. When I was twelve, Son of Sam was going around shooting people in New York- and he made steady use of blackouts. I had it in my head that he was going to come out to visit us- cause we were so isolated out here-”

The teen was listening to him raptly now. “How’d you get over it? Did your parents help you?”

He looked up at Pete before continuing to portion scrambled eggs onto plates- twice as many eggs going on Pete’s plate as his own- “Nah,” he said. “My dad would have been mad if I’d said I was scared.”

His teen looked startled. “Why? That does sound scary-”

“Yeah, but I was a Stark,” he said flippantly, rooting around for fruit in the fridge. He got a cutting mat out and began to slice through the strawberries. “He expected more from me,” he clarified.

“That’s…”

“Stupid,” he agreed, supplying Pete with the word because he doubted Pete would insult his father, even if he clearly didn’t think much of the man.

“Mean,” Pete corrected quietly.

Tony turned the stove off with a snap. He shrugged. “Sit down, honeybunch. I’ve got almost everything on the table. What do you want to drink?”

“Coffee.”

“Oh, god-” But he started the coffee maker. When he was putting the filters away, he caught sight of a silver glinting- right, the thing that Pete had honed in on originally. Getting on his knees, he peered into the corner cabinets-

“Tony, what…?”

“Just a second, baby-”

Practically getting on his stomach and having to push through the things they’d stacked on the shelves, he reached into the farthest depths of the cabinet and pulled out- “Huh,” he said, falling back on his ass and looking at what he held in his hand.

“What is it?” Pete asked, suddenly behind him.

“This is part of Ana’s tea set,” he said, holding the delicate silver pitcher in his right hand. He looked up at the tea service on display in front of them. “The creamer… it went missing years and years ago.”

“It was back there the whole time?”

“We would have looked- we did look- We looked everywhere. Why…?”

Pete helped him to his feet, gentle hands under his armpits, holding him up like he was infirm- Tony would have protested, but Pete was so loving. For a while after he’d come back, he just wouldn’t let any of them touch him. He leaned against the teenager, putting the silver creamer on the counter and looking at it. “Shouldn’t it be dusty?” Pete asked quietly.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Unless the service that cleans has been taking care of it.”

“But then why shove it out of sight like that?” Pete asked, voicing the very thought that had formed in Tony’s head.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. “I don’t know. Listen, breakfast is getting cold. Let’s eat. This is just- odd- that’s all.” Privately, he thought to himself, ‘those readings Friday mentioned.’

Peter called May after breakfast. Tony could hear them chatting as he washed the dishes. He stared out at the dark grounds- what was it, monsoon season? He’d been hoping for some decent weather actually. His husband had checked the forecast- that was definitely a Steve move- and he’d thought the super soldier had said it was going to be nice. Maybe he and Steve didn’t have the same definition of nice…

His eyes caught the creamer when he turned away from the sink at last. He walked over to it, his thoughts going back in time, remembering how the Jarvises had made him tea every evening when his parents were away, how he’d always begged Ana for cream, so much that the tea turned a milky white…

He put the creamer away with the rest of the set, feeling a sense of order and unease all in one at seeing the set complete again after so much time.

Pete had put the magazine away when he came through the living room now; the periodical nowhere in sight. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want me to know?’ Tony wondered, heading upstairs to actually clean himself up. He waved at Pete from where he was sitting at the piano, idly picking out notes while he talked on the phone.

“Tony?” Peter poked his head into the bathroom twenty minutes later. “I’m just finishing up,” he said, turning to look at the teen. He gestured Pete forward, catching his chin. “Do you ever have to shave, Pete?” he asked, curious.

“No,” Pete said immediately, looking self-conscious. “I don’t really-” He gestured at his face- “grow any hair on my face.”

“Well, let me know if you start. I’ll teach you how to shave. If you want,” he added hastily.

“Who else would teach me?” Pete asked cheekily. “May?”

“How is your hot aunt?”

“She says you owe her $5 every time you call her that this week,” he said promptly, wandering out and flopping on Tony’s bed. He lit up the miniature arc reactor (apparently he’d kept it on him), the light casting blue shadows on his face. After a moment, he put it on Tony’s bedside table, tapping it so it went out again.

“Shit, I’m going to have to take out a loan,” he joked, washing his face now. He looked up. Pete was still laying on the bed, but he’d turned to face the door, and even as Tony watched, the kid rolled carefully on his side, going into more of a crouch. “Pete?”

“Shh,” the kid whispered and Tony’s eyebrows contracted.

He stepped out into the room and then crossed in front of Pete’s sightline, looking out into the hall. “Nothing there, Pete. Did you see something?”

The teen had eased out beside him. “I thought- but it was nothing, Tony- I must be seeing things-”

“What did you think you saw?”

Peter hesitated, looking up at him through his fringe. “I didn’t see anything,” he confessed. “My spidey sense pinged.”

“It pinged?” he questioned, careful to keep his tone neutral. The kid was a bit sensitive about his spider abilities.

“Like it was picking up something… down the hall…”

Tony cocked his head and Pete flushed unhappily. “Hey, hey,” he said. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. Do you think there’s something here?”

Pete shook his head. “No, I don’t sense anything right now.” He deflated. “Maybe it’s just the storm. Maybe I’m just crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Tony said sharply. “Hey, look at me.”

He waited for Pete to glance up at him, holding his chin lightly so the kid couldn’t look away. “You don’t have to convince me of things. I always believe you. Always. If you thought something was there? Something was there. Seems like it’s gone now. Tell me if you get the feeling again, okay, Pete?”

“Yeah, Tony,” Pete whispered.

“Hmm.” He surveyed the teenager. “I was going to start my search today. Want to do that with me or is there something else you’d rather do?”

“Nah, we should start looking,” Pete agreed, blinking a little. “Can’t do much else anyways, can we? Can’t go outside.”

“Not unless we want to get really wet.”

“Fuck that,” Pete swore and Tony chuckled. He tossed Pete one of his hoodies, the one that he knew the kid liked the best. “You kiss your aunt with that mouth?”

“I get my swearing from her.”

“Mm.” He watched the kid pull the hoodie on; it still draped him like a dress. He wondered when Pete would shoot up. If he would. Tony hadn’t gotten ‘tall’ until he was eighteen. But Pete wasn’t working with his genetics… “Where should we search, Petey? Upstairs or downstairs?”

“Isn’t upstairs where your dad’s lab is? You haven’t shown me that yet.”

“And mine. He had a smaller one that I used. Come on, let me hold you for a minute.” He pulled Pete into his arms. The kid tried to protest, telling him he didn’t need to, but he shushed him. “I love holding you,” he said, rocking Pete as much as he thought the kid would allow. “It’s all I thought about when you were gone.”

“Oh.” They didn’t talk about what had happened much. Tony was trying to change that. Pete was proving to be resistant. But the kid relaxed into his hold. “You’re a good hugger,” Pete said into his shoulder.

“I practiced while you were gone,” he said huskily. He pressed his nose into Peter’s hair. “Come on, let’s get a move on. Wait here just a moment. I need to change. Then we’ll go upstairs.” Pulling the door shut behind him, he changed hastily into a cleaner shirt, a sweater. Found his shoes.

Opening the door, he found Pete at the top of the stairs, peering out into the entrance hall. He gave the kid a quizzical look but the teen just shrugged at him, saying nothing. “The lab?” he suggested. Pete nodded, his eyes sparking with interest.

“Do you think there are things science can’t explain?” Pete asked, following him upstairs.

“No. Do you?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes there’s phenomenon that happens and we don’t have a good explanation for it. When I was kidnapped, there were times that I thought I heard your voice. You told me to hold on and that you were coming. And then you did come.”

Something lodged in his throat. “Pete, I will go to the ends of the earth to find you. I hope you know that.”

“I do. But that’s not the point. There’s no good explanation for why I heard you.”

“Fine. But, I’m a scientist. We like to prove things-” The door jammed at the top of the stairs. Tony had to put his shoulder to the wood, pushing against it as he turned the knob. The door opened with a long creak. That was new. The first sign this old house had submitted to time, just like the rest of them.

Here he was, so close to where it had all started. He slipped through the middle of the room, heading for the door on the fair side of the room. He was halfway across when he realized that he was walking alone.

“Woah.”

He stopped short, doubling back to where Pete had stopped. His hand still on the door knob, the kid was peering into the dim air to the right of the door, looking at- His old desk. There was a book open, his old set of screwdrivers, a glass stained from a long time ago with amber marks- Right. The cleaning service had been instructed not to come up here. It was pretty dusty. He hoped the kid’s asthma truly had been eradicated by the spiderbite. “It’s not as cool as my lab,” he said, trying to see what Peter saw.

“But Tony, this is your lab. The lab you grew up in.”

“You make me sound like I was grown in a test tube. Yes, this was the lab I made DUM-E in,” he said somewhat impatiently. “But come- I think you’ll find the next room more impressive actually.” He tugged on Pete’s arm and the teen let himself be guided forward.

“Oh wow.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the kid, pressing his forehead into Pete’s shoulder so the boy wouldn’t see him smiling. “Dad had a different style than me,” he offered.

“Yeah, refined-”

“Listen, shithead, I-”

There was a thump downstairs and they both went quiet now, looking at the floor below them. “Stay up here,” Tony ordered, and Pete promptly disobeyed him, following after him when the mechanic stalked through the smaller lab and back down the spiraling staircase. He was with him too when Tony took the grand staircase two steps at a time.

“Tony? I think there’s someone out on the lawn?” Pete said.

Tony spun on his heel and stepped closer to where the kid was looking out one of the front windows. He saw- something- “Stay in here- this time I mean it, Peter,” he ordered, wrenching the front door open.

He stepped down off the porch and into the pouring rain, slipping over wet grass. There was a person up ahead, tall and familiar and opaque in the falling rain and he sought to catch up with them- but they were fast-

He slipped in a dip in the lawn, twisting his ankle. He swore loudly, but the panic was rising up and wouldn’t let him stop- suddenly, he didn’t care about someone on the lawn- What if this had been a distraction to get him away from Peter? He remembered- oh god, he remembered what had happened to Pete last March- and he spun, giving up the ghost (literally), and sprinted back to the house, ignoring the pain in his ankle.

Pete pulled the door open before he’d even gotten to the top of the stairs and Tony slipped in gratefully, taking the teen by surprise by seizing him (“Tony? Are you okay?”) and pulling him into an even tighter hug than before. “I thought- I remembered-”

“Did you catch who it was?”

“No, I realized-” He interrupted himself to place a series of kisses down Peter’s neck and then into his hair, realizing too late that he was getting Pete almost as wet as he was, but the kid didn’t seem to care, seemed to understand actually what was going on in Tony’s head because he pressed his forehead up into Tony’s, whispering, “I’m okay, Tony. I’m okay. Everything’s fine. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We should just get out of here,” he heard himself saying.

Pete surprised him by shaking his head. “No.”

“No?”

“Nah, I didn’t feel afraid when I saw whatever that was- I think it was probably just an animal. Are you okay, Tony? You’re drenched.”

Tony didn’t bother telling the kid that whatever had been out in the rain with him had definitely been human. Tall, thin, and pale. He didn’t want to scare him. “Alright kid. But you stick with me. I want you in my sightline at all times.”

“Bathroom breaks separately,” Pete hedged and Tony laughed, despite himself. “You should put on dry clothes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should,” he sighed. “Come on, then.” He limped towards the stairs.

“What happened to you?” Pete asked, rushing to slip his arm under Tony’s armpit. Tony let him help, knowing the kid could easily carry him up the stairs if he’d wanted to.

“Twisted my ankle in the grass,” he mumbled.

“Shit, why didn’t you start with that?”

“You shouldn’t swear so much,” he said tiredly, scooting past Pete into his room. “Breaks May’s heart.”

“Shit is like a baby swear at this point.” Pete came back with a towel. And- “What do you think was out there?”

“Probably just an animal like you said.” He indicated the kid should turn around, waiting until he did before he pushed his pants down. He hissed when the jeans went over his swelling ankle- yeah, that wasn’t good.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, bud,” he managed. “Can you get me a pair of sweats out of the case in front of you? And then there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom- I put it under the sink. Get that for me too. Please.”

He took out the wrap bandage when Pete came back, wrapping it tightly around his ankle, which was now the size of a small grapefruit. Pete sat beside him, personal boundaries apparently gone- he watched Tony work the bandage round and round and then handed him the sweatpants when he was done. “Better?” he asked, when Tony was finally done.

He slipped his shirt off next and toweled himself the rest of the way dry. “Yeah- as good as it gets. Come on, let’s go back upstairs. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Tony,” Pete said obediently. “Is your leg going to be okay?”

“I’ll manage. Wish I had your superhealing right about now.”

“I wish you had it too,” Peter said, so gently that it took the sting away from his leg.

“Listen, you,” he said, slipping an arm around Pete’s waist as they walked back towards the stairs that led to the lab. “You need to listen to me. I know you have superpowers and you’re infinitely stronger than me and all that yada yada but you’re still my kid-” He tapped Pete’s ribs. “It’s my job to keep you safe. Not the other way around.”

Pete nodded, both of them knowing he’d do exactly the same thing the next time the chance presented itself. “You keep me safe. I follow your directions where it counts. Don’t I?”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at them. Thirteen steps and all of them narrow. Christ. “You do,” he said absently. “Head up in front of me, Pete. If I fall I don’t want to take you down with me.”

Peter was also staring at the steps up to the attic level. “No,” he said.

“No?”

“Your leg is hurt. Let’s stay on this level for today. Please, Tony?”

He considered the teen. “Alright,” he decided. “We can go back to it. Where do you suggest?”

“What better place than your old bedroom,” Pete suggested.

“You just want me off my feet,” he accused, but he stood back to let the kid come back down off the steps. “Alright, padawan. Your wish is my command.”

Following behind him, Tony wondered if he’d seen what he thought he had. If he’d seen who he thought he had. And if so, then what did that mean?

Chapter Text

“Lay down,” Pete ordered as soon as they crossed the threshold.

He scoffed. “Who’s the adult in this relationship?”

“Steve.”

“Traitor. Anyways, Steve’s not here right now. I’m the head honcho. Chief, boss, father-” Pete raised an eyebrow at this. Tony finished, “figure. Dare I suggest- Dad?”

Pete grinned at this. “You’d regret it,” he admonished. “Now lay down.”

“Only if you lay down with me.”

“Dude, it’s a twin size bed.”

“I happen to know it can fit two people when needed-” Pete groaned, giving him a disgusted look. “Oh, not like that,” he said tartly, limping towards the bed. “This bed is pristine. I didn’t have sex until I was in college.”

“Weren’t you like thirteen when you started college?” Pete asked, gingerly laying down next to him so that they were shoulder to shoulder. Tony shoved the pillow under his head, giving it all to him.

“Yes, but I was fourteen when I started hooking up.”

“That isn’t normal, is it?” Pete asked tentatively, not looking at him. There was a blush staining his cheeks.

“I don’t think so, Pete,” he said, squeezing the kid’s hand. “Better to wait until you’re an adult. I’m not just saying that because I’m your mentor slash father figure. Science backs me up. You’ll enjoy it more.”

“Urgh, I can’t believe we’re talking about this…”

“I’m not asking for details, I’m not giving details. But you should talk to me if you have questions. Or Steve. Steve’s less of a prick than I am. He wouldn’t mind if you asked him questions.”

Pete looked at him with one eye. “If I was going to ask questions, I’d ask you,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “But I didn’t come here with questions about… that-”

“Alright, I’m just saying.” And because he thought it would make Pete feel better, he said, “Steve didn’t start having sex until he was 23. Don’t tell him I told you.”

“Really, 23?”

“Yeah. Sounds like a better age.”

“So if you weren’t having sex,” Pete said, sounding like he was working through his disgust. “How do you know…?”

“Sometimes my mom would lay in bed with me,” he whispered. “After she’d come back from parties… Dad wouldn’t have approved. But it was nice. She’d hold my hand-” He squeezed Pete’s hand. “And tell me she missed me. Then we’d gossip.”

“About-?”

“Oh all the busybodies that would come to Dad’s galas. Her friends. My Dad. So on.” Pete was starting to fidget next to him. Maybe he was getting bored? Tony nudged the teen. “Want to look around?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t you snoop yesterday when I was making dinner?”

“No!”

He clucked his tongue in mock disappointment. Pete laughed at him, rolling himself upright. Tony glanced over the headboard of the bed where he’d left his knights and dragons figurines on the windowsill. Sure enough, they were still there. Standing, he took down the airplane model. “My dad made this with me,” he said absently, turning it over in his hands. “When I was eight.” He showed Pete the bottom- Dad had scrawled. ‘Anthony and Dad, 1973.’

“His handwriting kind of looks like yours.”

“It does. Huh. Never noticed that before. Probably our shared engineering background-” He hung the model back up.

He sat down at his desk and began rifling through the drawers. Pete drifted back to his closet, looking back at him for permission apparently; Tony gave him a lazy wave of approval and took out a bundle of photos. Ana had taken these- they were mostly of him and Jarvis, but there were some of him with his parents- sitting at the piano with his mom- watching his dad play pool in the den-

“The shirts are cool, Tony,” Pete commented, pulling out some of his old t-shirts.

“You want them?”

“I can’t-”

“Of course you can, sweetheart.”

A pause. “Maybe.” Pete was back in the closet, poking around. Tony had never hidden things that he really cared about in there, though. He knew his mom had routinely gone through, looking for drug paraphernalia and dirty magazines. He’d hidden both of those in other places. Mentally, he was debating if he was ready for Pete to see that side of him when:

“No way, dude.”

He leaned the desk chair back, trying to see what the kid was seeing. The kid was deep in the closet now, his legs braced against the door to keep him halfway up the wall (though he felt that Peter’s stickiness was probably doing its own part). “What did you find?” he asked resignedly.

Pete hopped down unexpectedly from his place, landing with a twist. He was holding- “You had a Kermit.”

“Ah.”

“You had a stuffed animal.”

“Pete, I was a child once. Tell me that you know that.”

“I just never pictured you having a stuffie, Mr ‘I built a motherboard when I was three’.” Pete was examining the Kermit doll. Tony had completely forgotten about it, to be honest. It had been well loved. “I didn’t know Kermit was a thing when you were a kid…”

“Pete, Kermit was created in, like, the 1950s. Exactly how old do you think I am?”

“I just never think of you being little.” Pete handed him the green frog. He’d loved this stuffie so much his mom had had to repaint the eyes a couple of times. Turning it over, he saw where Ana had stitched up the leg. “I used to pull it around by the leg,” he explained, seeing Pete watching him. He fingered the stitches. “Almost took the leg off a couple of times.”

“Lay down, I’m going to take a picture of you with it,” Pete ordered.

“Oh god,” he complained, but he slumped back on the bed, having to curl his legs not to hit the bottom. “Who are you sending that to? I have a reputation I’m trying to uphold here-” He was looking at the frog plushie with its matted down fleece fabric and ping pong ball eyes.

“Steve, May… Natasha?”

“Fine. Acceptable. No one else.”

“No one else,” Pete agreed. “Why was he in the closet?”

“Wasn’t safe to be gay in the seventies…” Pete chucked a hat at him. Tony laughed. “I hid him cause my dad decided I was too old for a stuffed animal. He was going to throw him out. I had all sorts of hiding places when I was a kid. Speaking of which…”

Rolling off the bed, he landed softly on his feet, favoring his good ankle. “Pick up the bed, Pete?” Really, what was the point of having an overpowered teenager if you weren’t going to put him to use every once in a while? He decided if he wanted Pete to show him all the sides of him, it was only fair to do the same.

Sure enough, Pete lifted the entire bed, setting it aside. “Bingo,” Tony said, finding the spot easily enough. He opened the floorboard-

“Tony, what-?”

“I sawed my way through one summer when everyone had gone away, replaced it with hinges. Needed a hiding spot.”

“You have no right to complain about the things I do,” Pete said flatly, sitting beside him on the floor.

“Uh, I never went out to fight crime. I think I do still have some things I can bellyache about-” He pulled out a half empty bottle of brandy. “Alright, maybe this is a bad example.” Pete actually giggled. He found a stack of Captain America cards next. “This is a different type of embarrassing-”

A strip of condoms, some topless magazines- Pete decided to look through the closet again and didn’t come back until Tony called him- a baseball that had been signed by Harry Hooper, a journal that Tony didn’t dare open here… “Have you gotten through the embarrassing stuff yet or should I stay where I am-?”

“Safe sex is nothing to be embarrassed about,” he called back.

“You told me you weren’t having sex when you were here!”

“These are from college. And falling apart. Wow.” He pocketed them. “I’m going to show them to Steve. I think they’re as old as he is.”

“Gross, Tony,” Pete said, but he was laughing. “Hey!” He snatched up a letter that had fallen to the side. “For future Tony,” he read. “Tony…” He handed it over.

“Oh shit, I forgot about that.”

Without much fanfare, he slit the envelope open. “Oh Christ, I wrote this when I was six…”

“Read it,” Pete ordered.

He looked up, resignedly decided why not, and began to read aloud. “‘Dear Tony, I am six years old. Mrs. Easton wants us to right about what we hope will happen in the fusure. I hope that you still live with’,” he coughed, shaking his head, “mommy and daddy and Jarvis and Ana and I hope that you have a bunch of kids too so that it won’t be,” he squinted, struggling to read his own handwriting, “so quite.’ I meant quiet. ‘I bet that you’ll be a good Daddy because-’”

He flipped the paper over. Nothing. “I ran out of room,” he said, shrugging at Peter. “Another classic struck down in its prime…” He put the letter back in its envelope.

“Can I have this?” Pete asked, slipping the letter from his fingers.

He glanced out the window. “Sure. Hey, it’s stopped raining, kid.”

“Oh, yeah. Do you want to…?”

He put the brandy and the nudie magazines back in his hidey hole. “Come on, kiddo, I’ll make you lunch and then let’s go outside while we can. We can keep looking some other time.” He put the things they’d found on his desk. Behind him, Pete shifted the bed back to its original spot, smoothing the blankets into place.

“Will it be okay, walking around with your leg?”

“The brace keeps it pretty steady. Promise you’ll hold my hand?”

“I promise.”

He cast a look back into the room as they were leaving. The plane was spinning again, gently rotating. He was going to have to examine these rooms for draftiness. Things shouldn’t be moving like this.

Turning off the light, he closed the door behind them.

Chapter Text

He made BLTs with the remaining bacon from breakfast and then, because he was trying to be a responsible adult and because Peter had a super metabolism to feed, he made a caesar salad. Pete was having none of that though. “What about chips, Tony?”

“Chips aren’t healthy,” he mumbled, tearing up lettuce in the colander.

“But we’re men, Tony, two men out here forging our way in the wilderness-”

He snorted. “You can have chips as well, my little gremlin, but they won’t fill you up. So promise me you’ll eat some of the salad as well. Otherwise I’m not sure why I’m washing all this lettuce. Just for my health, I guess.”

“You are a good dad, you know,” Pete said, touching his shoulder just briefly. He looked up. “Like your letter said-? Ah, never mind.” He grabbed the bag of chips and the plates that Tony had washed at breakfast. “Let’s eat in the dining room. Breathe some life back into the place?”

“Good idea,” he said. “I’m right behind you.” He leaned against the counter, looking at the door that Peter had just disappeared through. Pete had a way of taking him out at the knees when he least expected it.

He thought he imagined a caress to his shoulder. Shaking his head, he grabbed the bowl with the salad and the plate with the sandwiches and pushed through the door carefully, not entirely convinced he wasn’t going to beam Pete with the door.

He video called Steve, propping his phone against the vase on the table.

“How’s my boys?”

Pete leaned in front of Tony, capitalizing on his husband. “Hey, Steve. Tony’s making me eat salad.”

“What-? Unfair.” Steve was grinning. Tony shoved Pete out of the way. “He’s literally eating a bacon sandwich, do you see that in his hand-?”

“I see it,” Steve said fondly. “Are you two having fun? Getting anything done?”

“I found these ancient condoms, Cap-” He pulled them out of his pocket, holding them up and grinning at the other man who blushed profusely, swatting at him as if he could compel Tony from far away to put the prophylactics away.

“Tony, the kid is right there-”

“Pete knows what condoms are, Steve, and-”

Peter took pity on the man. “Tony twisted his ankle.” Well, he sort of took pity on them.

“You twisted your ankle?” Steve asked, his brow furrowed.

“It’s like I’m not even talking- why do you always take the kid’s side?” He sobered up. “Some things are a little odd here, Steve. But yeah, I slipped this morning. We have a brace on it. Could you order me something better than what comes standard in the first aid kit? The swelling’s already going down, I just don’t want to fuck it up more than it already is- I’m not a teenager anymore-”

“And you don’t have super healing. Yeah, I’ll find you something good. What do you mean there are odd things? Like something in the house?”

He and Peter looked at each other, both of them debating what to say. “Nothing substantive yet to report, Captain. I’d let you know if there was. Just-”

“My spidey sense keeps pinging,” Pete said. He nudged Tony, pointing at his sandwich. Tony mouthed, ‘yes, mother’ and took a bite.

“Like there’s danger around?” Steve was starting to look concerned.

“Not danger necessarily…?” Pete shrugged. “More like it’s saying something’s there. But then there’s nothing there.”

“The house is odd, Steve,” he broke in. “Yesterday, there was a breeze pushing the curtains around-? But then I realized there were no open windows. Pete’s picking up on something with his senses. Yesterday, we thought we saw…” He stopped himself. ‘A ghost,’ is what he’d been about to say. That was wrong. But…

“Do you want me to come out there?” Steve asked, his eyes serious for once.

He looked over at Pete. He wanted the kid to feel comfortable. “What do you think, Roo?”

Pete looked stricken at being given the choice. He opened and closed his mouth and Tony had to resist the urge to jump in, to make it better. “Maybe later on,” he murmured. “I like…”

“You like having Tony to yourself?” Steve asked gently.

“Yeah… Sorry.”

Steve laughed, not unkindly. “Oh baby bear, don’t apologize for that. Tony wanted this time with you himself. He chose you specifically. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Tony keeps me safe,” Pete said quietly.

“Of course. I think he’d walk on fire for his boy.”

The teenager blushed at this, but he liked it, Tony knew. “Am I his boy?” Pete asked, pulling bacon out of his sandwich and eating it piece by individual piece, carefully not looking at either of them now.

“Oh god yes, Pete. You’re mine too.”

That got a faint smile from Pete. “Do you miss Tony?”

Tony had to resist the urge to remind them that he was right here. He liked watching his husband and his pseudo Spiderson interacting too much to make a big deal of it. “I miss Tony but this gives me more time to spend with Natasha,” Steve confided, giving his husband half a glance. “You know me and Nat like to have our fun.”

“What are you doing with her tonight?” Tony asked, rejoining the conversation.

“Going to a show! We’re meeting up with May. If it’s good, I’ll go see it with you again- will you come?”

“Yes, Captain,” he agreed, not even knowing what the show was but knowing he’d want to be there with him.

“You’ll let me know if you need me?” Steve asked next.

“I will. I usually do.”

“Usually-”

“That’s all we can hope for.”

Steve stayed on the line for the rest of their lunch, listening to them describe what they’d found so far and the different rooms. He’d never been here either, Tony reflected and he wondered what it would be like for the soldier to visit, knowing that Steve had once been friends with his father, knowing that Tony’s impression of Howard had forever soured Steve’s impression of the man… Pete talked easily with Steve, eating through his sandwich and the salad and the second helping that Tony put on his plate without protest and Tony finally let him have his chips, delicately finishing off his own sandwich…

“We’re going to take a walk, Capsicle,” he said at last, grabbing his plate and Peter’s. “It’s been raining here the past two days. We’ve got to enjoy the good weather while we have it.”

“You’re going to take it easy on your leg?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Will you text me?” Pete broke in. “If you like the show?”

“Of course, honey, I’ll want to say goodnight-” Tony left through the butler’s pantry, stacking the dishes in the sink and grabbing a sponge. He came back in, tidying up around the teenager. “Okay, Tones,” Steve said. “I won’t keep you. I love you.”

“Love you,” he agreed, bending to look at the screen from behind Pete.

“Give Pete some extra kisses for me-”

“I’m like- fifteen-” the teenager protested, but Tony had already hugged him from behind, pressing obnoxiously loud kisses to the side of his head, to his ear- “You’re so gross,” Pete protested, but he was smiling. “Bye Steve! I love you the most-”

“What-?” Tony’s protest was drowned out by the captain’s absolute cackle. Tony punched the end call button, cutting the man off in his prime. “Come on, traitor. Come make sure I stay upright-”

“I was only teasing you,” Pete protested, taking Tony’s hand as they crossed the front entrance hall.

“Good.”

“You know I love May the best.”

“Oh, you’re testing me, Pete.” He swung their clasped hands.

“You’re okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” he said, trying to sound grumpy and failing. He liked their rapport. Liked when Pete teased him. He held the door open, pushing the teen out onto the covered porch and locking the door behind them.

“Where should we go?”

“Anywhere you want. There’s a path through the woods- the entrance is over there- and my mom’s rose gardens are around the side where the sun always hits them. There’s the family graveyard in the back,” he added in a mumble.

Pete stopped. “Your family’s buried here?”

“That’s right. Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out. Just- you didn’t say.”

“I’m telling you now,” he said gently. “It’s not scary, Pete. You get used to it, real fast actually. Should I have told you before?” He was worried.

Pete shook his head at last. “No, no, just- wasn’t expecting it. So your parents…?”

“And the Jarvises. And my grandparents on both sides. And-” This was a lot of information and part of the reason why Tony had been avoiding bringing this up so far. “I had a couple of siblings that died before I was born. Stillborns and very young babies,” he clarified, seeing Pete’s expression. “Never met them. I was the one that survived. I bet they wish one of the others had- they were always disappointed in me.”

A strong wind snapped a stick against the side of the house, making them both jump. “If they were disappointed, that’s not something you did,” Pete told him. “Would it be weird to visit?”

“We can see the plot,” he agreed. “But not today- okay, Pete? Today I just want to be with you. No death, no destruction, nothing like that…”

“Let’s see your mom’s garden. Then we can walk in the woods. The trees are starting to change color.”

“It’s pretty,” he agreed. “Come on, Roo, I’ll show you the way.”

Chapter Text

Getting away from the house seemed to do them both some good, something Tony was trying not to read too much into. He convinced the kid to sit with him for a while in the rose garden, massaging his ankle while describing his mom’s work in the garden (she’d planned it) and the collaboration of the Jarvises (Momma and Ana had always gotten along very well, almost like sisters). Pete was surprised there were still flowers on the bushes this late in the season, but Tony wasn’t.

“Momma chose varieties that would bloom for as long as possible in this environment. They’ll still bloom in October, even.” If Pete didn’t want to go into the graveyard after all, that would be fine, he decided, but he’d probably cut some of the flowers to leave with the two women’s graves.

“You said you fought with your parents right before they died?” Pete asked, looking away from him, his voice quiet as if he wasn’t sure he should be asking this.

“With my dad. Things were always a little more combative with him. My momma wasn’t mad- I think- she was just upset that we were fighting again. And I wouldn’t tell her that I loved her cause I was hurt that she didn’t try harder to defend me. I wish I had.”

Pete toed at the pathway in front of them. “I don’t remember my parents,” he said next.

“You were very little when they died,” Tony said gently.

“You’d think I’d remember something…”

“What is your first memory, baby?” Tony was curious.

Pete looked over at him, then squinted up at the sky. A breeze blew through them, thrusting the smell of roses over them. “Bowling with Ben and May,” he decided.

“Yeah? How old were you?” He was fascinated.

“Maybe like five or six? I wasn’t in school yet.”

“Probably five then.” Tony tapped Pete on the shoulder. “May showed me and Steve pictures of you when you were little.”

“What? When?”

“Mm, last time we had dinner together. You were out on your date with MJ-” Pete slugged him in the stomach. Tony held up his hands, protesting, laughing. “You always had those beautiful brown eyes, baby, but your curly hair-” He mimed the chef’s kiss gesture. Pete shook his head at him, laughing now.

“Are there baby pictures of you in there?” Pete asked, tilting his head at the house.

“No,” Tony lied. An acorn bonked him on the head and he looked upwards in disbelief. They weren’t even under a tree… Up above them, a crow flapped, angry perhaps to have lost its treasure. “What is this, sarcasm?” Tony asked. The open air didn’t answer, not that he’d expected much. “There might be a few photos,” he allowed.

“Seems like those would be good for your project,” Pete said triumphantly.

“Perhaps.”

“That’s a yes.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Petey,” he sighed.

“I learned from the best…”

“Me?”

“Natasha.” And that did kind of make sense. Tony let him have that one. “Does your leg hurt a lot?”

“Just a little,” he lied. “Do you want to walk in the woods now? The foliage around here was always pretty.” Pete nodded, holding out a hand to help him up. Tony refused to let go afterwards. He kissed the kid’s knuckles. “Still worrying about that school project?” he asked.

Pete shrugged rather glumly. “There should be other ways to do genealogy projects,” he complained.

“I agree, Pete.” He let the topic go as they reached the threshold of the forest but he never let go of Pete’s hand. And Pete didn’t protest.

In fact, Pete did something that night that he hadn’t asked to do in nearly a year- not since he’d been badly hurt- he asked Tony if they could share a bed. “Would that be weird? I know I’m too old-”

“Old, you’re a teenager. You’re just starting out.” Tony looked into Pete’s brown eyes, so like his own, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay, honey?”

Pete just shuffled. “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t need to actually, I was just kidding-”

“Of course you can sleep with me. I love cuddling with you. You’re like a heated blanket, turned all the way up.” The teen gave him a look, so unsure of himself that Tony’s heart flip flopped. “Please, Pete? I missed a lot of years that I would have liked to have seen you grow. We didn’t get to do this kind of stuff while you were young. Let me have it now. Weird and all.”

And Pete had no business looking so grateful like that. Tony pushed down his instinctive need to tell Pete they could leave in the morning, that hell- they would go tonight if it made him feel better. There had been a reason to bring Pete with him. He’d chosen him over any of the others for a specific purpose. He wasn’t willing to give that up yet. He decided he would even find those baby pictures for Pete. Peter deserved them.

He did tug Pete forward however. Nobody could blame him for needing to hold the kid extra. Not after what that woman did to him last spring. “Are you nervous cause of the graveyard?”

“No.”

“You’d tell me if it bothered you?”

“Sure would.”

“Okay.” He had to believe Pete. He gave him an extra squeeze. Pete was strong, sturdy. Solid.

“You hug so much now,” Pete mumbled into his clavicle.

“I’m making up for lost time,” he answered readily, rocking the teen in his arms. “You’re my sweetheart.”

“Thought that was Steve.”

“Steve’s my honey. You’re my sweetheart. Natasha’s my girl. Everyone gets a title. You get many. Cause you’re special.”

“You literally just called me honey,” Pete pointed out.

He sniffed imperiously. “Trust me, I can tell you apart from my husband; the man’s a brick-”

“Tony,” Pete laughed.

“I can’t brag about my hunk?” he asked, but he was grinning at Peter. He felt like something ruffled his hair, but there was nothing there- they were alone- and he decided to focus on Pete. “Get in bed,” he said then, releasing the teen.

“Are you going to bed now too?”

“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?”

“This is really early for you,” Pete pointed out, crawling under the covers. He watched Tony moving around the room.

“Well, I’m not going to sleep right away. But we can talk until you sleep and then I might read my book. I have to give it back to your aunt when we get back- she’s been waiting.”

“Anything new on those readings that Friday sent you?”

He tapped his watch. “She’s collecting data. Last I checked, nothing had changed. They’re still there. Sometimes stronger than others. We’ve been all over this place. The signals seem to be coming from everywhere…”

He undressed carefully, trying not to aggravate his swollen ankle any more than it already was. Pete was watching him, he knew, and he found that he didn’t care as much as he would have, years and years ago. There was something warmly domestic about stuff like this, getting ready for bed with his teenager nearby, playing board games on rainy days. Talking him to sleep.

“I love you,” he said, climbing under the covers at last. He threw an arm across Pete’s chest, pinning him down. “So much.”

“Love you,” Pete whispered back.

He played with Pete’s hands over the covers. “Sorry this is turning into a weird trip, kid.”

“I still like it,” the teen said loyally. He pressed his cheek against Tony’s shoulder. “I’m with you.”

Tony felt something well up in his throat at that. Being home was reminding him of his parents- reminding him a lot of them and he’d known it would- but he’d never felt quite this way with them. He’d never been quite sure they loved him, but he knew he’d wanted it when he was young… and then when he was a teenager, he had pretended he didn’t need it. Now as an adult…?

“Is it strange being back here?” Pete asked then, voice hesitant.

Tony stared up at the ceiling, feeling the press of Pete’s hip against his own. “Yeah,” he said. ‘Tell the truth, Tony.’ His inner voice sounded suspiciously like Steve. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. The last time I was here, it was just before Christmas, and I was fighting with my parents.”

He could feel Pete looking at him. “You never said what the argument was about. What were you-?” And then the kid closed his mouth again.

“I was mad at them because they weren’t going to be home at Christmas and I’d driven all the way back from MIT to see them. Turned down plans with Rhodey. And I was mad at myself for expecting anything different, because they usually missed the holidays. I thought it would be different because it was my last year at college… Afterwards, I felt like it was my fault that I felt hurt because I’d set myself with unrealistic expectations. And I was hurt because it felt like they didn’t love me.”

Above their head, a pipe groaned. Pete flinched at the sudden sound, so close. He focused on Tony. “What you felt makes sense,” he whispered. And, because it apparently didn’t make any sense to him, he asked, “You were going to be alone? They’d really leave you here at Christmas?”

“Mm, not completely. Jarvis and his wife were going to be there; they were always like a second set of parents to me- a replacement set maybe- but… but I did want my parents there too.” He ran his thumb over Pete’s hand. “I wish we hadn’t argued right before they died.” He knew he was repeating himself but he couldn’ help it. He really hated how they’d left things. And he couldn’t fix it.

Pete curled into his side. “I bet they wish that too.”

It was a weird thought. He didn’t have a lot of belief in an afterlife and even less belief that his parents would have changed or admitted mistakes. Still, he drew Pete closer. “You know what I wish? I wish they’d met you. You’re made of the best parts of me.”

“Think so?”

“Yeah, kid. You’re everything I wanted to be. You’re so good. I could never tell you enough.”

“You’re getting mushy,” Pete pointed out. His fingers curled around Tony’s wrist.

“Our collective little family has been working on me. Unfair,” he complained. “We never talked about our feelings, my family, not here. Not with each other. What we dreamt about, what made us mad… I don’t know, Pete. I talked to my dad about movies. Would watch anything he was interested in. Thought if I liked the things he liked, he’d like me too.”

“Did it work?”

“It kept us talking at least…”

“I wish you really were my dad,” Pete mumbled into his shoulder. Quiet. He did that when he was trying to tell Tony things he also didn’t want to say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling above them. His eyes found lines in the plaster. Fancied he saw faces in them. His mom. Jarvis. Even-

“I’m your guardian,” he reminded Pete. “I chose you. Didn’t have to. Wanted to. Everything that's mine is yours. What does it mean, being a real dad? You tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”

Pete blinked at him. Smiled faintly. “Thought maybe…” He didn’t complete the thought.

Tony waited for him, but the answer never came. He held back a sigh. He wanted to know these things inside Pete’s head. The doubts. Would knock them all out of there like cobwebs if the kid would let him. “No,” he said finally. “You’re mine. And May’s.”

“And Steve’s?”

He huffed. “Steve’s too, I suppose, but mostly you’re mine.”

“Okay, Tony.”

“My parents never thought I’d be responsible enough for a kid.”

“They only knew you when you were a teenager. I’m told we’re impulsive,” Pete said sleepily.

“I was an angry teenager.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Acted out a lot. Got into trouble. They thought I was bad. I wanted to be good. Wish I’d been more like you. Seems like…” Pete was falling asleep. He could see him struggling against it. That wouldn’t do. “I like your Ned stories,” he said, changing tacts. Pete hummed, his eyes fluttering shut. “You should ask MJ out one of these days.” A shake of the head. “She likes you. I see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Trust me. Anyways… Steve wants to bring you sledding this winter.”

“Sledding…”

He traced nonsensical shapes on Pete’s back, hearing the boy’s breathing slowing down, getting heavier. When Pete was finally asleep, he pressed his lips to the teen’s forehead again. He was too affectionate with Pete, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. They’d found him, bleeding and half starved…

Hesitantly, he slid a hand along the teen’s rib cage. Solid muscle and a hint of the bones underneath, but not unnaturally thin. “You’re my future, Pete,” he said into the darkness.

He was asleep before he knew it.

It was Peter that woke him up, hours later. The room was still dark- he couldn’t see shit- and he peeled off his sweatshirt so that the light of the arc reactor provided at least some visibility. “What’s the matter?” he said groggily.

“Do you hear that?” Pete asked.

He cocked his head, sitting up. He didn’t hear anything.

“Piano playing,” his boy insisted, and he was getting up.

“Piano playing?” he repeated, struggling to get up as well. He stood- and his ankle screamed at him- right, he’d forgotten. Didn’t matter. He padded out after Peter and now, standing at the top of the grand staircase, he could hear it too… And he knew that song. “Stay here, Pete.”

“No, you said we had to stick together-”

“Fine, but be very quiet and stay behind me,” he whispered insistently.

They crept down the stairs, one of Tony’s hands clasping Peter’s wrist. His ankle hurt, but he forced himself not to say a word. The piano music was coming from his mother’s music room- it was the song that she’d played the last time he’d seen her- he’d named the September Foundation after it-

He threw open the door of the room, dragging Pete behind him-

And there was nothing.

Nobody at the piano. No radio. No TV on this floor. “It’s gone,” Pete said, and he sounded scared. “But you heard it too?”

“I don’t know,” he said through numb lips. “Let’s search the place- stay alert.”

He kept his hand on Pete the entire time, moving first to the kitchen to the right of the music room and throwing on lights as they went through the rooms- kitchen, butler’s pantry, his father’s study, the conservatory (he checked the doors to the outside- they were locked, he even rattled them), and on through the library, back around to the living room in one big loop.

There was nobody there. They were alone.

“Maybe we just misunderstood,” Pete suggested at last, shivering visibly. “It could have been… I don’t know, a radio with a wire crossed or something. There’s no one here.”

Tony didn’t speak immediately. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a roaring in his ears. This had never happened when he had lived here. And he knew there was no way that they could have both hallucinated the same noise. But he looked at Pete’s face and Pete looked tired and slightly desperate and scared. Tonight wasn’t the night to tell Pete the rest of the stuff about Friday’s readings. And he didn’t like himself for bringing Pete here without telling him everything.

He’d been so sure Friday had been wrong. And now-?

“Let’s go back to bed, baby,” he said finally. “There’s nothing to worry about. I am your dad. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe. Come on, Roo.”

He made a big show of putting Pete to bed- the kid definitely huffed at him, but he let him continue and that was what counted- He dragged a heavy quilt out from the closet and smoothed it over Pete. Ana had made this. He remembered it. “I think maybe the late hour is just playing tricks on us, Tony,” Pete said, sounding sleepy. “We’re nervous because of the animal from yesterday. That’s all. Right?”

“Right,” Tony lied. He didn’t believe it himself. Something strange was happening here. “Close those eyes.”

Pete was peering into his face in the darkness though. “I think… being back here… is kind of stressing you out.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. That one was fair. “We’ll find some stuff to slap together and I can bring you somewhere normal for the rest of our week, if you want. I can monitor the situation from afar. Sic Strange on the house. He owes me. We can go home.”

“I want to stay,” Pete whispered, surprising him.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. It’s just you and me. We go home and I have to go back to school and pretend that I’m okay and sometimes, Tony, I don’t think I am. But I’m happy wherever you are… Please, let’s give it a try? As long as I’m with you I’m fine.”

Sometimes Pete’s kindness was too much for him. Hurt his heart. He didn’t think he deserved it. “That’s my line,” he said gruffly. He brushed hair out of the kid’s eyes.

“You’ve got to sleep too-”

“I will.”

And he tried, he really did, but he mostly lay awake, listening to Pete snore, feeling his soft breaths tickling the hairs on his arm. There was no sound from the rest of the house. The air didn’t have that heavy feeling it had had when they’d woken up. Whatever- whoever?- had been playing his mother’s favorite song? They’d gone away now.

Pete, ever the heat seeking missile, rolled and lay practically on top of him somewhere around three and under the weight of the teen, he finally fell asleep, arms firmly wrapped around his chest.

In the morning, he stumbled into the shower. He felt groggy; his leg smarted. Standing under the stream of hot water, he tried to make sense of his thoughts. Something strange was happening. He didn’t know what though.

Getting out of the shower, Tony didn’t see it at first. It wasn’t until he went to shave that he raised his eyes to the mirror- fogged up from the shower steam and with a message clearly scrawled. Two words. ‘Sorry Anthony.’

“What the fuck,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

His first thought was that Peter had written the words. Some kind of joke. Maybe-

But the teen wasn’t in the room when he hobbled out. The other side of the bed was disheveled, the covers thrown back, and Pete was gone. He felt his heart leap into his throat. For one moment, panic threatened to overtake him. He had to take half a dozen deep breaths.

Pete had clearly gotten up and wandered away- why?

“Fucking ankle,” he whispered to himself, pulling a pair of boxers on. “Fuck this ankle, fuck this vacation, fuck-”

He had a moment’s indecision when he got to the hall, pulling his sweater over his shoulders, but the doors up here were all closed again and he didn’t hear anything above him- downstairs. He decided Pete must have headed down to the first floor.

He nearly twisted his ankle again going down in a rush- for a moment, his vision whited out and he swore colorfully- but he managed to right himself again. “Peter,” he said, catching sight of the teen outside the front door. “What the fuck?”

He wrenched the door open, feeling cold air hit his exposed skin. “Pete,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“It’s so cold out, Tony,” Pete said, standing out on the front porch.

“Of course it’s cold, Roo, you don’t even have socks on. Come on, get back inside,” he barked. Pete shuffled past him obligingly. Tony felt his heart beating fast in his chest. Ridiculous- the kid was a teenager. He could be outside for a couple of minutes unsupervised. Fuck- he was a vigilante in New York City.

Still… “What were you doing out there?” he asked, getting down on his knees and checking Pete’s toes for signs of frostbite. He heard the teenager sigh but he pet Tony’s hair.

“Just… just thinking about the past couple of days. I was just out on the porch for a couple of minutes- really, Tony-” Pete caressed his face. “Why are you so wet?”

“Cause you were gone when I got out of the shower!”

“Oh. Sorry. Just- This house is weird, Tony. Well, not weird- it’s a nice house- but-”

“That answers almost nothing,” he said, getting to his feet with difficulty- his ankle was really protesting now.

He decided not to say anything about the mirror. His heart was thumping in his chest. What did this all mean? It didn’t seem like Pete was playing a trick on him. It wasn’t his handwriting. He never called Tony ‘Anthony’- Tony wasn’t even sure Pete knew that was his full name. They’d already checked the house twice now- nobody there. Nobody they could see. No ways in. Dad had designed this place to be a fortress.

“I was looking to see if there was a way that someone had set up a hologram or radio waves- something?- you know, like a bad joke? Cause this place is empty. I thought maybe it was bugged. Ghostly images walking down the front steps, piano playing in the middle of the night-?”

Right. The piano playing. He’d almost forgotten that one. In the morning light, it seemed like a weird dream, some kind of hallucinogenic nightmare. He tried to school his features into something neutral. Was that what the person was apologizing for? Had they stood outside of the shower while he was shampooing his hair, just inches away from him and he hadn’t known-? “And? Did you find anything?”

“No…” He hadn’t expected anything of the sort. “But-”

The kid didn’t say anything else. Tony waited- finally, he gave in. “But what, baby?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Pete mumbled. “It sounds stupid.”

Tony was prepared to believe just about anything Pete wanted to say at this point. He lived in a world with super soldiers and medieval gods, teenagers that could scale buildings. And mirrors that apologized the way his mom always had. “Never going to laugh at you,” he said, shaking his head.

Pete considered him. “My senses keep pinging,” he said softly. “It’s what woke me up last night. And just now. But… there’s not been anything there when I go looking.”

He hummed. “Does that ever happen, honey?”

Pete seemed to be thinking it over. “Not really? It happens every once in a while, but not like this consistently.”

“When does it happen, other times?”

“Sometimes when I’m at the public library, uh, when I was visiting a classmate for a project last fall, two months ago when Steve brought me to that old movie theater in his old neighborhood- you know the one that he was so excited about? That was around when he was a kid-”

“Your classmate, where do they live?” Tony asked, trying to make sense of what Pete was telling him. He shivered a little, wishing he’d dressed more now. If he was putting this all together correctly, Pete had a new ability, a certain perception that the rest of them seemed to lack…

Peter just shrugged. “Some old brownstone near where Strange is actually- obviously not the same though. It actually is just a brownstone. Cindy’s rich-”

“Huh,” he said.

“What?” Pete asked, his eyes lighting up in that way they did when he was interested in something. “You’re thinking something!”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about how bitching cold I am right now-”

Pete just scowled at that. “That’s cause you didn’t get dressed- hang on, I’ll go get you some stuff.” And he bounded back up the stairs before the mechanic had time to point out that he’d only gotten dressed so quickly because he’d been looking for the teenager- that the teenager had been outside in his freaking pajamas-

Pete peeked out over the landing. “Did you take the mini arc reactor?” he asked.

“Last I saw it, it was on my bedside table, honeybunch.”

“Oh. I don’t see it now…”

Tony tilted his head, looking at the spot where Pete had disappeared. The arc reactor was gone? It wasn’t actually worth anything- it was really just a light inside of a miniaturized casing- and there was nothing about it that really gave away proprietary secrets on the arc reactor in his chest. Why would someone break in to take that…?

“I couldn’t find it,” Pete said morosely.

“It’s okay. I’ll make you another one. Or we’ll find it. At least you’ve got the original.” He thumped his chest.

“Yeah… Here, put pants on first-” Pete was back and he held out a pair of sweats which Tony swiped from him. This was definitely different- his parents would have disowned him if they’d seen him getting dressed in the front hall- Tony put his socks on, clinging to Pete’s shoulder for support. The teen had even brought down his slippers.

“Have I ever told you that you’re incorrigible?”

“Thanks, I’ve been working out-” Pete was cheeky, swiping at Tony’s wet hair with a towel. Tony half bent over, letting the teenager practically wring his head off. “Very funny, Mr. Parker.”

“I aim to please, Mr. Stark. Tony.”

‘Dad, call me dad.’

Tony just shook his head. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, realizing they’d been standing in the front parlor for almost a half an hour now. “And aren’t your feet cold? Come on, put my slippers on- your big feet are almost the same size as mine, sweetie- I’ll make breakfast.”

“But then your feet will be cold-”

“I’ll be fine, I have socks. Don’t talk back.”

Pete trailed after him, looking pensive. “You’re thinking something. I know you are. You have to tell me- we’re a team.”

“You know that I like to ponder my theories out on my own first.”

“You know that I’m good at puzzling out things you’re too pigheaded to realize on your own,” Peter countered.

Their banter stopped at the threshold of the kitchen. “Did you come in here already?” Tony asked. Peter shook his head.

It certainly seemed like someone had. The room was not at all how they’d left it the night before- The radio was on, playing an oldies station. Someone had put the skillet on the stovetop. A box of pancake mix had been knocked over on the counter, spilling out. Tony caught a line of the song that was playing- ‘...They asked me how I knew; my true love was true- I, of course replied, something deep inside…’

What. The. Fuck. “Haunted, I think there’s a chance the mansion is haunted,” he blurted out. Whoops.

“I think so too,” Pete mumbled, stepping closer to him.

He didn’t want that to be true. “This can’t be true,” he said, raising an arm and using it to sweep Pete into the room. “We’re just punchy from a lack of sleep. Right? Come on. Let’s make breakfast and talk about what’s been going on. There’s got to be a good reason for all this.”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Tony wiped up the spilled pancake mix and tossed his dish towel into the sink. Pete had already started on the bacon and eggs, using the skillet that Tony must have taken out the night before in preparation for the morning. Tony had just forgotten. Right. Tony laid out a griddle and began to mix pancakes together. “Have you heard from Steve?” Pete asked.

“Oh shit- yeah, he texted me this morning. I never responded-”

“Give me the batter. I can start making pancakes.”

He handed over the bowl, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Steve had texted him- ‘how’s it going? Love you xxx’

He started typing out one thing, reconsidered it, and typed a different message instead. ‘My ankle hurts. Petey Pie’s good. Being here is strange.’

There, he thought. Nothing dishonest about that. Better than telling his husband that he and his pseudo child were getting haunted by what he felt could be his long dead parents. ‘Miss you like crazy,’ he added, cause that was also very true.

He watched Pete sprinkling just a fuckton of blueberries and chocolate chips over the pancakes and waited for Steve’s reply. A ping a second later told him the super soldier had been waiting to hear from him. ‘Aw, honey. Call me later when you have a chance. Tell me about it.’

He sent a text in affirmation and put his phone away. He rubbed his face. He was an adult. He could do this. “Possible haunting aside, did you sleep okay, kiddo?”

“Oh, yeah. I always sleep better when I’m with you.” Pete pushed him towards the table. “Sit down, Tony. I’ll make you a plate. What do you want to drink?”

“Just coffee.” He watched the teenager moving like a whirlwind around the room. ‘I always sleep better when I’m with you.’ It warmed his heart and yet, it spoke to what the teen had been through. Pete had never slept in his bed until that woman had hurt him. “Pete, I just adore you. Do I tell you that enough?”

Pete came back with two plates of food. “You say it an obnoxious amount,” he said amiably, kissing Tony on the temple.

“Good. Good…”

“I love you too, though,” Pete murmured.

He felt a savage flash of pleasure flowing through him. If he was getting haunted by his parents, he hoped they were seeing that he’d ended up a better parent figure than they’d been. And then all at once, the pettiness faded. What if he was being haunted by his parents? Why had they come back now? Would they be proud of him? What were they doing to him, scaring him and his kid like this-

“Eat up,” Pete ordered, tapping him with his fork. “It’ll help fix your ankle.”

“That makes no sense,” he said back, but he took a stab at the eggs.

“Did you tell Steve about the ghosts?”

He choked on his sip of coffee. “So we’ve decided that’s really happening then?”

“It seems likely.”

“Christ. No, I haven’t told my husband yet. Don’t want him thinking I’m insane.”

Peter hummed. He stole a piece of Tony’s bacon, his own pile notwithstanding apparently. Tony pushed over his cup of coffee without comment, getting up to get a second cup. Pete looked up at him when he came back; for a moment, Tony just stood there, running his fingers through the teen’s hair. “Love you, bug,” he said at last.

He sat down beside the teen.

Chapter Text

Tony insisted that Pete eat something before they began to exchange notes in earnest. “You can wait. Hey- ghosts! Mind if we eat breakfast first or are there some chains that you absolutely need to rattle right now?” he added, raising his voice theatrically.

Pete shushed him, looking around the kitchen like something really was going to happen. “Shh, you’re being so rude. We’re not getting hexed, dude-”

“Because things like that don’t happen- dude-”

Pete scowled at Tony mocking him but otherwise ignored the last jab. He pointedly cut through his pancakes, stuffing bites into his mouth with a rapidity that made Tony just a little bit anxious. He kept himself from remarking on it with difficulty. The kid was talking- “What are we going to do? Try to catch the ghost?”

“Catch it? What are we, the Ghostbusters? We’re going to collect more data like the scientific people that we are. And we’re going to keep living our lives. Then we’re going to get the hell out of dodge-”

“But Tony, this could be something entirely new! A scientific breakthrough- how does that not excite you? No, we need to get to the bottom of this. What have we seen so far?” Pete asked excitedly, rattling these questions off and accidentally spraying Tony with coffee. “There was the tall guy in the garden and the music playing last night- the music this morning- Did you know anybody that liked music?”

Tony bit his tongue. He couldn’t help but feel like he was losing his mind a little. “My mom played that song we heard last night all the time. That was her music room,” he said, tipping his head towards the wall in between the kitchen and the music room. “Were you looking at the magazines in the living room, the first night we came here?” he asked suddenly, remembering-

Pete made such an affronted face Tony almost laughed. “I don’t read magazines,” he said, sounding like Tony had suggested something raunchy instead of Home and Garden.

“Yeah, I guess that doesn’t make sense. You can’t read-”

“Hey, I’m smart!”

“The music this morning reminded me of my butler,” he interrupted, thinking it over. “He and Ana had this routine- dinner at a certain time, then the radio. I’m sure they-” But he couldn’t make the joke he’d originally intended to say, he realized. Pete was his teenage boy. Just a little kid, he felt. “I’m sure they went to bed at the same exact time every night,” he amended.

Pete looked like he understood far more than Tony had wanted him to get, to judge by the slight wrinkle of the corners of his nose but thankfully he said nothing to that. “So those three things really- the magazine could have just been left out, Tony- Right?”

“Someone would have had to put it back again. Neither of us did that- apparently. It’s other things too,” he said, pushing his plate away. He ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking about if he really wanted to pull the kid into this. But Pete wasn’t helpless- and Tony had asked him to do worse. Course at the time, he hadn’t known the kid was a kid. And he’d tried to fix his mistakes…

“Like what?”

‘Yes, but you still regret that,’ a little voice inside of him said. ‘Putting him in harm’s way. You said you’d try harder. And then you let him get kidnapped…’ He caught Pete’s hand up in his, pressing kisses to skin almost thoughtlessly. Pete was still watching him, he realized. He’d gotten lost in his own thoughts. “I love you, baby,” he said gently.

“I love you,” Pete said back immediately. “What other things?”

“It’s- Okay, this sounds stupid. We’re not judging each other?” Pete shook his head. Tony sighed. “Maybe it’s just being back here. I feel like I’m smelling my mom’s perfume in the air sometimes, or there’s movement just in the corner of my eye. There’s-” He waved his hands vaguely. “Just something different about the house now. When I was growing up, we didn’t have any of these problems. We would have moved. My dad wouldn’t have put up with this kind of shit-”

“What if this is your dad though?” Pete asked immediately and then shut his mouth with a click. “Is that insensitive? Sorry.”

“No, although the idea of my dad reading Better Homes and Gardens in the afterlife makes me think maybe he went down instead of up-”

“Tony, you can’t make jokes like that,” Pete hissed reprovingly.

“There’s one other thing, Pete,” he said, realizing he’d almost forgotten this morning’s shenanigans. Quickly, he sketched out the story about the message in the mirror (Pete’s eyes were wide. Tony was pretty sure he’d heard the kid mumble, ‘holy shit,’ when they got to the part about the writing. “You didn’t do that?” he asked, though he already knew Pete hadn’t.

Pete shook his head. “I don’t go in the bathroom if you’re in there,” he said.

“We have all the same parts, Pete.”

“Still.”

“Alright. I didn’t think you’d done it.”

“Who called you Anthony? You don’t really like it when people call you that, do you?”

Tony considered the question. “Steve does it sometimes, but it’s always kind of a joke- like he’s pretending to be mad. Both my parents called me Anthony. Jarvis and Ana called me Tony. They knew I liked it better. Oh- Peggy called me Anthony too. But I don’t think she’s ‘visiting’ if anyone is.”

“What do you think the ghost was apologizing for?” Peter asked next.

That brought Tony up short. He hadn’t even considered that, for some reason. “Probably for fucking my ankle up- Or scaring the shit out of my kid.”

“I’m going to tell May what filthy language you use in front of me,” Pete said amiably.

“No, you won’t.”

“Was your dad tall?”

He jerked his head towards the kid, furrowing his brow. “No?” he said. “We were about the same height, me and him, and he was a bit stockier. I’m better looking.”

“It’s just that whoever was in the garden looked tall and thin,” the teen said. And- oh yeah, that was true. “Definitely not a woman. You said your mom liked that song. Used to play it on the piano? So it probably wasn’t the same ghost. Don’t you think?”

“Are we honestly thinking that this place is haunted by not just one, but multiple ghosts?” Tony asked, wondering when his life had gotten so far off the beaten path. If not about his ankle, what was that message in the mirror for then?

Pete just shrugged. “We should collect more evidence,” he whispered, leaning into Tony’s personal space. He kissed the mechanic on the forehead quickly, before Tony had time to know what was happening and then, when he was a little bit stupefied, snagged his plate to bring over to the sink.

“We’ll do those later- hang on-”

Tony hobbled over to the drawer closest to the garage door. His mom had always… Score. He pulled out a sheet of lined paper and a pencil. On second thought- he grabbed two more pencils. “So,” he said, scrawling the word ‘theory’ at the top of the paper. “We have essentially four people that we think it could be-”

“Your mom, your dad, Mr. Jarvis or Mrs. Jarvis,” Pete said while Tony scrawled those down.

“Let’s make a list…” Pete scooted closer to Tony, looking over his shoulder. Tony wrote down the various incidents they’d experienced, from the man in the garden (he made a mental note to go look where the apparition had disappeared) to the piano playing from the night before. Perfume, creaky floorboards, an airplane that kept spinning despite a lack of wind- “I thought I saw a curtain blowing the other day,” he mused quietly. “But there’s been no open windows…”

Pete shivered. “What about my arc reactor?” he asked.

“What about it, Pete?”

Pete sucked on his teeth thoughtfully. “I still can’t find it,” he said miserably. “I really looked while you were in the shower! Honest. But it wasn’t on the bedside table or under the bed- I lifted both- and I’ve looked everywhere, but if you didn’t move it and I didn’t move it…”

“I believe you, Pete,” he said, cause the kid was shivering slightly. “I always believe you. If you said you didn’t lose it, you didn’t. Let me write it down.”

“You knew these people,” Pete said quietly. “Who do you think would do what?”

“Jarvis honestly matches the description of the person we saw in the garden,” he said, feeling like a traitor in saying it. “And he would have been the one to put on the radio. Momma or Ana wore perfume and read the magazines, but Mamma was the one who played the piano.” He paused, looking over the list. “My dad would have been interested in the arc reactor technology,” he said slowly, the realization dawning on him. “But it’s not really an arc reactor. Some of these I don’t know who I would assign them to.”

Pete was biting his lip. “Ask your question, baby,” he said absently, his eyes on the list still. Pete cleared his throat. “Why are they haunting us? You mostly, I guess.”

“Creepy as these things have been,” he said reflectively. “Nothing really dangerous has happened. I don’t think they’re actually trying to scare us. I think that’s what the message in the mirror means.”

“Maybe they’re just interested in you?” Pete suggested. “They haven’t seen you in a long, long time.”

“I don’t even know if they’d recognize me,” Tony said tiredly. “Last time I came here, I was a twink.”

“Urgh, no-”

“Don’t believe me? I used to wear crop tops, The eighties were-”

But they both froze. From beyond the closed kitchen door, they’d both heard a sound. A door had slammed.

Chapter Text

Tony got to his feet, dropping the pencil on the table. “Come with me,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Nothing to be afraid of, Pete.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m with you.”

“Good. Do you know which door that was?” He was hoping Pete’s super hearing would hold the clue.

“Sounded like the other end of the house. Near the library?” Pete suggested.

“Okay. Let’s take a look.”

Tony opened the door to the hallway, holding Pete’s hand in his own. They moved as one down the back hallway, past the dining room and Dad’s study and ducked into the conservatory, where they found-

“I think that door was open before,” Pete said.

“Someone trying to get our attention?” Tony wondered. He reached for the library door, his hand shaking a little despite his best efforts. He pushed it open, flicking the lights as they went-

The library was empty, not a soul in sight. Natural light spilled in from beyond the porch, competing for attention with the light he’d turned on. He turned the lights off again, liking it better when it wasn’t so artificial.

The library looked as it always had, books neatly in place, a basket with books next to his mother’s chair- they were the books that she must have picked out, so many years ago, the books she’d intended on reading next, perhaps when she came back from her Christmas vacation-

“Tony?”

He swung around. Pete was looking at the desk under the window. He pointed at it, more specifically, the typewriter. “Neither of us typed that.”

Stalking over, he pulled the paper out of the writer.

‘Of course we recognized you.’ was typed across the top. Tony swallowed, his vision suddenly blurry.

Neither of them spoke.

Carefully, he replaced the paper in the typewriter, scrolling the paper up manually until it was ready on a new line. “What do you know,” he joked, “the ghosts can type.”

“Maybe we should look in here today,” Pete suggested. “Maybe this is where they want us.”

“Do we want to do what the ghosts want? Personally, I was never for obedience,” Tony said lightly. He saw Pete wince. “Sorry, Pete. You know- You know that I joke when I’m stressed. Look at me-” He waited for the kid’s attention. “What do you actually want to do?”

Pete stared at him from those thoughtful brown eyes. “I want to finish the job,” he said, sounding somehow both scared and stubborn all at once. “I like looking for your stuff with you. I don’t think we’re in danger. And if we’re near where things are happening… won’t we learn more?”

He swept a hand through his hair. “Alright. You tell me if you change your mind. We’ll look in here.”

“Just one thing.” Pete looked sheepish. “I want to get dressed.”

“Okay…”

“Could you come upstairs with me? Just- it is a little creepy.”

“Of course I’ll come upstairs.” He was struggling with this. He didn’t want to believe in ghosts, but the alternative seemed worse somehow; the alternative suggested that there were intruders who were psychologically fucking with him. So, ghosts. Either way, he couldn’t be shaken from Pete’s side. “Let’s get dressed and then we’ll start.”

Pete grabbed the suitcase he’d left in his first room and dragged it back into Tony’s room, the mechanic standing back to give him room. He offered to stand in the hallway to give Pete privacy but the teenager shook his head. “You’ve seen it all, anyways,” Pete said bracingly. “What’s one more time?”

“Very different circumstances,” he murmured without thinking about it.

Pete paused in the middle of shucking his pajama top off. “I’m all healed up from last time,” he pointed out. Tossing the shirt in the basket in the corner, he pointed at his chest. “See, nothing.”

“You know, Steve doesn’t get scars either, but it doesn’t mean the things that happen don’t affect him,” Tony pointed out gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “In fact, sometimes I think it’s worse, the lack of scars.”

“Why…?”

Tony looked out the window to give Pete as much privacy as he could while he stepped out of his sweatpants. “Scars remind us what happened to us. That it was real.”

“But I don’t want to remember what happened.”

“I know you don’t. And I wish it never happened to you. But it did, baby.”

“I just want to move on. I don’t want it to be real.”

He glanced over at the kid. Pete had jeans on. He seemed to be looking for a shirt. “You can’t move on if you don’t acknowledge it,” he said heavily. “I’ve tried, believe me. I’m not saying these things cause I like it. If I thought I could take it all away from you,” he stood up, gripping Pete’s elbows, “if I could change it so it happened to me instead. I would in an instant.”

“I don’t want it to have happened to you either.” Pete was close to crying. He could tell. His voice had taken on that high steely tone.

“You’re not alone, Peter. You don’t have to face it alone. Talk to me. Talk to anyone. But talk about it some time, okay? Please?”

“Not now,” Pete pleaded.

“Not today,” Tony agreed. He massaged Pete’s forearms with his thumbs. “When you’re ready. Whenever that is.”

Peter sniffled and Tony’s heart broke a little. He hadn’t meant to make the kid cry. “Do you think the ghosts watch us getting dressed?” Pete asked, obviously casting around for a different topic.

“Nah. We were always big on privacy. I bet they wait in the hall.”

“Good.”

Tony had so many things he wanted to say at the moment and yet, he found he couldn’t say any of them. He watched Pete pull on one of his dumb pun shirts and he found his hoodie from the day before, offering this silently to the teenager. Pete buried his face in it, breathing in- what? Tony’s smell. “I like your aftershave,” the teen said, with a self conscious shrug. “Whenever I smell it, I think you’re nearby. Like a hug.”

“Let me give you a real hug since I’m right here.”

There was another message on the typewriter when they made it back down to the library. ‘Edwin feels bad about your ankle. He didn’t know you’d be able to see him.’

Tony stared at the message. He fanned his fingers over the typewriter, didn’t know what to say, and turned away abruptly. Dad had called Jarvis ‘Jarvis’. Mom had called him Edwin. So had Ana.

Pete was climbing the walls. Literally. “There’s a ladder,” he said, watching him.

“Don’t need it! You can use it.”

He sank down into the armchair, looking at the books in the basket. Momma had always read three books at a time. Sometimes she’d read to him when he was little. She’d stopped when he became a teenager. Sometimes he still missed it.

A couple of John Irvings, a sociological text, an autobiography recounting the author’s experiences under the Khmer Rouge, two watercolor books, piano sheet music, and- his mother’s diary. He picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands. He couldn’t read it- it would have been an invasion of privacy even if he wasn’t aware that she could very well be watching him right now- but on the other hand, he longed to see her handwriting, the beautiful, uniform cursive she’d learned as a child, the way she made her g’s…

He set the book aside before the longing became too much, putting it on the desk next to the typewriter. Pete seemed to have found a book to read; he hung from the ceiling with one hand stuck to the tiling up there and he seemed content to read just like that, the absurd little weirdo. He wondered what his parents made of Pete, if they really were watching them.

“What’d you find, Pete?”

“A lot of Stephen King books!”

“My dad liked Stephen King.”

“Really?” Pete managed to look inquisitive. “Doesn’t seem like the type from what you’ve described.”

“Big fan. Didn’t appreciate it when I started doing the same drugs as his favorite author though. Guess I should have typed up a few novels…”

“I thought you did drugs after they died…”

“Everyone tried coke in the eighties. Don’t let me ever catch you trying any of that shit.”

“No, Dad,” Pete parroted, going back to his book. Tony sighed, loud and obnoxious. Of course Pete would only call him ‘dad’ to patronize him. Pete tapped him on the head with his foot when he walked under the kid.

“Shithead,” he called up to the kid, wandering towards the corner. Momma had been in charge of organizing the books and he thought after all these years, he still remembered the order. She’d put Dad’s horror collection up near the top, disliking the ugly paperbacks. Classics and intellectual stuff in the middle where company would see them. And in the far corner, where no one was really looking- “Yeah,” he said softly, pulling down a picture album.

“What’d you find?” Pete asked, flailing a little as he turned.

Tony held up the photo album for him. “Want to come down and look with me? There’s a whole bunch of these.”

Pete let go of the ceiling immediately.

“One of these days,” Tony said, rather grumpily, “you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I keep you young,” Pete disagreed. He gathered four more of the albums like the one Tony held, trundling them over to the window seat. Tony followed behind him, boosting himself up next to Pete.

“I used to sleep on this window seat,” he said absently. “My mom would read to me.”

He flicked open the first photo album, Pete leaning heavily on him. “Oh my god,” Pete said.

“You’re going to do that the whole time, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” Pete repeated, pulling the album out of his lax fingers. “Tony… you were blond.”

“When I was a baby,” he agreed resignedly. “My hair obviously darkened over the years.”

“I’m sending this to Steve. No- May. No. Both.” Pete had already taken his phone out, snapping more than one photo.

They were on page one. He foresaw this taking a while.

Absently, his eyes drifted back over to the typewriter on the desk. Was she there? Was she seeing them now? He looked over at Peter.

Chapter Text

There were a lot more photos of Tony than he’d anticipated. He’d always felt a little forgotten as a child, like his parents were always away or busy or upset with him, and he’d honestly anticipated most of these albums would be of their trips, Dad’s business associates, Momma’s women’s auxiliaries, and so on, and yet-

And yet there were a lot more photos of him than he remembered having been taken.

Most of the photos had obviously been taken by Momma. There was her cursive under the photos, marking his age, the occasion, where they were. The Jarvises had almost certainly taken some of these. He vaguely remembered Jarvis tell him to look, Ana’s hand on his arm, her face against his.

Steve would like the ones with Peggy, he thought. They might make him sad. But he’d like them. There was Peggy, curled up in the nursery rocking chair, staring down at him, and there was Peggy, pressing red lipstick to his cheek. He’d danced on her toes at some wedding (the Jones’s wedding, that could be anyone really-) and there she was with him on the back porch when he was nine and that one, that one he actually remembered.

“My godmother,” he explained when Peter asked. And then because there was no avoiding it really, “She dated Steve.”

“You married your godmother’s boyfriend?”

“We both had our time with him,” he said absently. They’d learned to live with the weirdness by accepting it. “Peggy gave us her blessing actually. She’d gotten married after Steve was lost in the ice. Had a couple of children. She was pretty badass. But yeah- we both loved Steve.”

“It’s weird.”

“Oh, I know.”

“She liked you a lot,” Peter said next. “What were you talking about? Do you remember?”

He had to think about this. “I asked her if I could go live with her.”

“For the summer?”

“For forever. Peggy loved me and I didn’t always feel loved here.” He touched her face absently. “Peggy was a busy woman though. She was kind and gentle about it, but she told me no. I had to stay here. She said my parents needed me. I didn’t really believe her. But she always came back. I knew she would.”

“This is your eighth grade graduation?” Pete asked next, reading his mother’s caption. Tony nodded. “You don’t look that old…”

“I was ten. It used to be that you could push through grades early. They don’t do it anymore, of course. It’s hard to keep up socially, even if you do well academically. But there were no objections in the seventies. And my dad wanted me to go faster.”

“Wasn’t it hard to make friends?”

“He didn’t see that as important.”

“But it was hard, wasn’t it?” Pete looked at him.

Tony gave him his best smile. “Bit hard, yeah. My first real friends I made in college- Rhodey and Happy. That’s why I’ve worked so hard to keep them, all these years.”

“Were you lonely growing up here?”

Tony didn’t really like thinking about it. “Sometimes,” he said diffidently. He wanted to be honest with Pete. Had resolved himself to it. But it would be easier… It would be better to not have to face it, regardless of what he’d said to Pete upstairs. “We’re looking at these out of order, Pete. Here’s another one from my baby years. You seem to like those.”

“I just never pictured you as a baby. Look at you.” He showed Tony a random picture he’d opened up to. Tony had been three? Four? And his mom had dressed him in green overalls. His hair kicked out in the back. “Everyone had longer hair back then,” he murmured.

“Sure.”

Steve called them after Pete had the audacity to send his husband a picture of a three year old Tony in a sailor suit. “You need to bring all these photo albums home with you,” the soldier said without preamble.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“The albums or our marriage is done for, Tones.”

“You drive a very hard bargain. How long do I have to consider the request?”

“A minute ago.”

He laughed at this, stuffing his fist into his mouth. “Alright, I accept the terms of your agreement under duress. Exactly how many pictures has Pete already sent you?”

“Not nearly enough-”

“Did you like the show yesterday?” he interrupted. “How’s Nat?”

“The show was great. Natasha misses you, but not as much as I do,” Steve said earnestly. “I miss waking you up in the morning.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“It’s the best part of my day.”

“You guys are sickening,” Pete informed him, leaning over.

Tony shrugged. He’d been considering telling Steve about the weird things that had happened just in the short time since they’d last talked, but he wanted to be present for Pete. “Listen, I miss your face,” he told Steve. “Call me tonight. I love you.”

“Love you.”

“Bye, Steve,” Pete called, leaning closer again. Tony held the phone up to his face. He couldn’t hear what his husband said to the teenager, but Pete smiled that shy smile of his at whatever had been said.

“Talk soon, Capsicle.” He disconnected the call.

Pete ‘made’ lunch that day, a strange collection of sandwiches and finger foods that they ate outside on the front lawn, sitting on a blanket and looking out at the vast expanse of grass in front of them. “Have you ever considered doing something with the place?” Pete asked, curious.

“I’ve tried my best to never think of this place at all,” he said, holding out his wrap to offer the kid a bite. “What are you thinking?”

Pete talked through the food. “Just seems like a waste,” he said. “All this space. All the land. You don’t have to do anything,” he said hastily. “But…”

“You can think about it,” he said. “I’m open to your ideas.”

“Do you want to visit the graveyard this afternoon?” Pete asked after lunch was over.

He surveyed the kid, folding the blanket up and leaving it on the top of their picnic basket. “We don’t have to do that, Pete.”

“I’ll be fine as long as you’re with me.”

“Of course I will.”

“Then let’s do it,” Pete decided.

They sidetracked to Jarvis’s garden shed, grabbing a set of clippers. Tony felt a little ridiculous picking flowers, but Pete agreed that it was important. He even found Ana’s basket, wide and flat, and carried this over to the rose garden; Tony tried to hand him the set of clippers and Pete politely refused. So Tony was the one to go through, clipping the flowers he thought the two women would have liked best.

“Think they’re with us?” Pete whispered. Tony shivered a little at the thought.

“Maybe. Probably.”

He replaced the clippers in the shed and taking Pete’s hand, led him around the back of the house, past the gardens and the pool (empty now, maybe they should have come to visit in the summer), took him down the back pathway and then, only when they could barely see the house, did they come upon the family burial plot.

“I thought it was much closer to the house,” Pete confessed.

Tony pushed open the gate, wincing a little at the metallic shriek the doors made. They hadn’t been opened much in a while, only for maintenance most likely. “Nah, carefully out of sight.” He glanced at his watch. Low level readings from Friday. Huh. You’d think the graveyard would be the place for a haunting.

Pete held his hand now, shivering even though it was rather warm for September and yeah, Tony decided he didn’t want to be in here long anyways. “Show you around? Here’s my grandparents- Howard Stark, Sr and Elsie Stark- I never met them. They died before I was born. This is my aunt- she died when my father was a kid, scarlet fever-”

He brought Pete down the line, introducing him to all of his relatives, as it were, and wondering if all of these people were out there somewhere, haunting houses, or if he had the monopoly on the matter.

“I wonder how we could communicate with them,” Pete said, pausing in front of the Jarvises’ shared grave. “There must be a way. And that one guy,” he pointed at Edwin Jarvis’s grave, “I saw him. So did you.”

“Not sure how it works, Pete,” Tony said lightly, patting the companion headstone thoughtfully. He picked out half the roses, arranging them on the ground.

“Were they Jewish?” Pete asked, pointing at the star of David under Ana’s name.

“Ana was.”

“Like me.”

“That’s right, baby.”

Pete hunted around for a moment, coming back with a rock. He placed this on the grave with his left hand, looking up at Tony as if worried the mechanic would be mad. Instead, Tony felt something stirring. “Ana told me about that,” he said slowly. “Long time ago. Um, shows love and respect-”

“Shows respect,” Pete agreed. “Shows you’ve visited. That you participated-” He stopped abruptly.

Tony knew why. Pete had never visited Ben’s grave. He’d never been able to. “Can non-Jewish people do that or is it disrespectful?”

“I don’t think it would be disrespectful.”

“Would you like me to put a stone on his grave some time?”

Pete looked at him, his eyes wide, the loss still fresh after all these years. Tony would never take Ben’s place. He didn’t dare try. “Oh, you don’t have to…”

“You’re visiting my family,” Tony said. “I can visit yours. Cause we’re bonded together, Pete. Always will be.”

Pete was blinking away moisture and Tony looked up at the oak tree above them, giving him space to gather himself. Some dignity. “Maybe I’d go with you?” Pete offered at last.

“That would be nice. Want to see my parents’ graves? Death isn’t so scary.” He took Pete’s hand, wrapping his arms around the teenager. “If we’re going to learn anything from this trip, maybe it’s that death is just the beginning. Maybe Ben is out there somewhere, watching you grow. I know he’s proud of you. I am too.”

Pete let him guide them both to the last headstones in the plot. He leaned back heavily on Tony and Tony tightened his hold. “Does it still make you sad?” he asked.

“Yes. I think it always will. Don’t you? But I have so many good things in my life too.”

“Me?”

He beamed at the teenager now. “You,” he agreed, so fond of Pete at this moment. “You, you, you…” And Pete let him punctuate the words with kisses. Tony did so love to love on his kid.

“I’m not going to leave things unsaid, Pete,” he promised. “When I love you, I’m going to tell you. If you get mad at me, I want to hear it. At the end of my life, I’ll feel like I have done something good if I’m a good dad to you. Will you let me?”

Pete took the remaining roses from the basket, laying them out in a fan shape. “I want that too, Tony. But you have to stick around for forever. I’m not prepared to lose you.”

“I’m going nowhere,” Tony said softly. “I’ll always come back to see you.”

Chapter Text

They tacked a sheet up in his dad’s billiard room after Tony showed Pete what they were working with down in the den- ‘is this really a TV? Really?’- and he loaded up the projector, pulling Dad’s armchair over and pressing Pete into the leather before he could really object.

Tony took the foot stool, leaning back against Pete’s knees and so he was wholly unprepared for Pete to wrap his arms under the mechanic’s armpits, pulling him closer so that he landed ungainly against the kid’s chest. He had to laugh at this, jammed as he was in the kid’s armpit. “Creton,” he protested.

“Are you not comfortable?” Pete asked, giving him a little shake.

“Oh Christ, yeah I always want your knee in my back when I’m lounging-”

Pete adjusted the knee but hung onto Tony, hugging his torso. “If you’re not comfortable…”

Tony folded Pete’s hands so they were resting over his heart. He held them both with his right hand, keeping them in place. “I’ll manage,” he said lazily. “Sure you want to watch boring old home videos with me?”

“I’m sure.”

“Kay.” He turned the projector on, watching the familiar zodiac sign at the beginning of the film, followed by a countdown. “I can’t believe you find this stuff interesting…”

“It’s you,” Pete said very, very quietly in his ear. “You were so small…”

“You sound like Capsicle when you talk like this.”

“Well Steve loves you too, obviously. He’s your husband.”

He was more interested in watching Peter than the movies flashing in front of them, to be honest. Leaning back, he studied Pete’s profile in the semi-darkness. Pete was going to grow up to be a handsome man, he decided. He had May’s looks, despite the lack of blood relations. “Do you think you’ll have children someday?” he asked impulsively.

“What? Dude, I don’t even drive yet.”

“I’m not talking about now-” On the screen, he was being held by Peggy, his mom close by. They waved at him. He had to resist the urge to wave back- they weren’t there- “Someday,” he insisted. “You’d be an amazing dad. Those would be my grandbabies. I could teach them how to be cool.”

Pete was blushing. “I don’t know,” he complained. “Could you let me finish high school?”

“Alright, sorry.”

“Is that your dad?” Pete asked next.

“Yeah.”

“He never really interacts with you…”

“Not true, he’s about to smack me- there-” He glanced back at Pete to grin at him (the slap hadn’t really hurt, but he could remember the surprise; all things considered he thought it was impressive that he remembered any of this) but Pete wasn’t smiling at him. “Ah, that was a love tap from Dad,” he explained.

“Why’d he hit you?” Pete whispered in his ear.

He scrunched his face up. “I swore.” He didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to remember.

And Pete seemed to guess that somehow. So intuitive. So empathetic. “You would never do that,” he said finally.

“No. Never, honey.”

“Are you actually comfy like this?” Pete asked.

“Mm…” He hummed. Pete’s knee was actually in his back despite his best efforts and this angle wouldn’t be good for a prolonged period of time but on the other hand, he had the kid’s arms around his shoulders and he could hear Pete’s heartbeat and these weren’t things that he took lightly. “Are you sleepy?” he asked.

“I’m okay going upstairs…”

“Let’s do that, mini.” He turned off the projector. Steve would want him to bring these home anyways. Christ, he was going to have to fill a box with stuff. “Come on, come on,” he said, stretching his back.

“I liked watching the movies,” Pete told him rather shyly.

“You can watch them again with Steve, he’s going to want to see them.”

“Do you miss Steve?”

“A bit. I like being married.” They were almost through the front hall, but he heard the typewriter’s keys begin to clack. Pete shivered. “That was probably a surprise to them,” he murmured. He headed for the stairs.

“You’re not going to see what was written?” Pete asked in disbelief.

“Nah. Sleepy time. Come on, bug.”

“Yeah, but…” Pete was beside him in a moment. The teen seemed to have remembered finally that Tony’s ankle was still plenty tender and he slipped his arm around the mechanic’s waist, taking a lot of the weight off of him. “Should I sleep in the other room tonight?”

“Oh god, no,” Tony said immediately, feeling Pete’s shoulder’s noticeably relax. “What’s a vacation without doing things out of the norm? Keep me company. Let me benefit from your egregious preternatural body heat.”

“You’re just using me,” Pete complained, but he had ducked into his original room and gathered the last of his belongings, pushing past Tony to put these in the mechanic’s room. “I’m going to shower.”

“Okay, honey,” he said absently. Steve was texting him- ‘good to call now, Tones?’ Speak of the devil. He found his captain’s contact info and hit call. Steve would figure it out. He laid down on the bed.

“Hey, Tones.”

“Captain, my captain.”

“Were you really free or am I interrupting something?”

“We’re just getting ready for bed-” Steve made a disbelieving noise and Tony glanced at the clock. Little past eleven. “Yeah, I know it’s early but I’ve got an impressionable kid who’s still growing and all that bullshit-”

“Where is the baby?”

“If he hears you calling him that, it’ll be your head,” Tony cautioned. He pulled the blanket over him. “He’s in the shower. I’ll put you on speaker phone when he comes back in.” He glanced towards the bathroom, hearing the water run. Pete could probably still hear them over the water- his super hearing was that good- but he also did make an effort to give people privacy, Tony knew that- “I’m keeping him with me tonight,” he said very, very softly. “And I think he’s a little self conscious about it. Tell him it’s fine if he asks, okay?”

“Of course it’s fine. That’s our baby.”

“He reminds me daily that he’s a complete and utter teenager, Steve.”

“Ah yeah, but he’s still a little guy,” the captain insisted. Tony could hear the smile in his voice. “He thinks he’s all grown but compared to the rest of us-? Nah. So you get to cuddle him. Lucky bastard.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to speak with a civil tongue.” Steve was laughing at him now. “Let me tell you all the weird things that have happened so far…”

Steve was a great audience; always had been, always would be. He wanted to come out there that night (to protect them), had to be convinced otherwise (he agreed with great reluctance), and was completely floored by the weird evidence that they’d gathered so far.

“You accepted this a lot quicker than I expected,” Tony said at last, sleepy and just a little grumpy that his handsome husband was so far away.

Steve yawned. “We live in a strange world, Tony. Just seems to be getting stranger by the minute.”

“What do you think they want, Steve?”

There was a quiet reflective pause. “Don’t know, baby. Seems like they’re just interested in you. I wish…”

He waited but Steve didn’t complete the thought. “You wish…?” he prompted after a minute.

“Ah, nothing really. I wish my mom was around,” Steve said softly, gently. “I miss her.”

He felt a pang. “I know you do, Cap. Wish I could give you that.”

“We’ll have to take a visit out to the old tenements where I grew up,” Steve joked. “See if Pete’s spidey sense includes early 20th century ghosts.”

“Oh my god, don’t joke-”

The shower shut off in the other room. Tony listened to the sounds of Pete moving around, probably toweling off, definitely brushing his teeth there. Pete paused on the threshold of the bedroom; Tony glanced at him from where he was lounging and gave a little wave. “I could come back,” he whispered.

Tony gestured him closer instead. “No, no, no, get in here. It’s Steve on the phone. Come say hey. Get in bed.”

Pete scurried around the end of the bed, climbing under the covers quickly, as if he was afraid Tony would change his mind. As if Tony would ever change his mind about having his Peter close by. “Pete’s here, I’m putting you on speakerphone-”

“Hey, Petey, honey. I’m glad you’re here. Tones was starting to get boring-” Tony snorted, burrowing down.

“Hey, Steve. Tony said I could bunk with him- that okay?” Tony could hear the anxiety in the teenager’s voice. Still so worried. Were they helping him? Steve would put things to rights.

“Absolutely. I wish I was there with you.”

“What, like you’d get on the other side?”

“Of course, pal. Tony tells me we’re not supposed to call you our baby-” Tony let out a derisive snort for Steve’s benefit. “But you are,” Steve continued unapologetically.

“Steve, he’s practically a full grown man,” Tony said rather theatrically, rolling on his side and giving Pete a shake- he’d provoked a smile from the kid and that was always good-

“I don’t- I don’t mind if Steve calls me his baby,” Pete said through laughs. “Just not Tony-”

“What?!” He was outraged.

“I’m just teasing you, Tony,” Peter said, wheezing a little from laughter.

“You’re the worst,” Tony complained.

“So can he call you baby or-?”

The teenager made a time out gesture, stuffing part of his pillow in his mouth to muffle the sound of his laughter. Tony pulled it out, too anxious that something might happen to the kid even here, even now, but he was reaching for the kid without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to Pete’s and murmuring, “I love you, I love you, I love you. You are my baby.”

“Fine-”

“Steve, you’re our witness.”

“Alright,” the captain agreed, sounding fond. “Petey, Tony and I love you so much. May sends her love. She misses your face- she told me to say it like that. Your 21st century phraseology is weird.”

“I miss her face,” Peter agreed right away. “Maybe you and May can come visit… later in the week. How long are we staying here, Tony?”

“Probably shouldn’t keep you out of school more than a week,” he murmured.

“But you wouldn’t bring me back just to go to school next Friday, would you?”

He picked his head up, thinking it over. Peter wanted to stay? “I have to talk to May about it,” he decided. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“I like being with you,” Pete said, sleepy sounding now. He was almost out.

“Because I’m your favorite?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. His favorite,” he repeated loudly for Steve’s sake.

“You earned it,” Steve agreed cheerfully. “Pete, my love, I’m going to give you so many hugs and kisses when I see you next. The Compound’s far too quiet without my boys in it.”

“Kay…”

“Goodnight, Captain. Think it’s time for us to sleep over here,” he whispered. “Bring me a couple of hugs and kisses too, if you can spare them, huh?”

“Sure, sure. Bye, baby.”

Stretching out so that he wouldn’t move Pete- the teen was asleep? Already?- he slid his phone onto the bedside table. Turning his head, he assessed the teenager. Pete was sprawled out on more than half of the mattress, crowding Tony, his limbs were stretched out like a starfish, he looked so young here- Curling on his side, Tony watched him sleep, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was afraid of how much he loved this kid.

Was his mom really here? Did she see him with his baby? He’d never imagined their paths would cross.

His heart ached, just a little.

Kissing Pete on the nose, he rolled over on his back one more time, stretching out his hand and trying to grab the chain on the lamp- it was just beyond his reach and his fingers grasped fruitlessly. He looked over at Pete, tried to think of how he could extract his other arm enough that he could move, knew that he would never be able to sleep with this light on-

And someone else pulled the chain, extinguishing the light so that Tony lay there in the dark, his heart hammering despite himself. “Thanks?” he offered into the silence.

He thought he felt- but that was crazy- he must have imagined the sensation of a hand on his forehead, passing through his hair and sweeping it back. He closed his eyes. Long ago, his mom had ended each night by kissing him on his forehead-

Chapter Text

Neither he nor Pete were morning people. Steve certainly was. From what Peter reported, May was. He thought they were ridiculous.

Case in point- Here they were, it was Sunday, Pete had rolled half onto him, and Tony was just waking up. His watch he’d forgotten to take off last night and good thing too, cause he couldn’t move to look behind him at the bedside clock-

Ten o’clock.

He yanked the quilt covering them up further, tucking it under Pete. It was tempting to get up, get going- once he started his day, he found that he couldn’t stop- and yet- and yet-

Pete looked peaceful and Tony wanted to memorize that. Laying practically nose to nose with the teenager, he could still see Pete the way he’d come back to them: bloody, thin, haunted. Christ, maybe he was the problem. No wonder the ghosts were interested in him, he was the one stuck in the past. Pete’s scars had faded quickly. That lost look in his eyes? It had taken much longer to go away.

So yeah. Tony was content to lay in bed with his kid, waiting for him to wake up. He watched each inhale and exhale; the mechanic found that he’d never grown bored of this. It didn’t escape his notice that Pete was comfortable sleeping with him, that clearly he felt safe. Tony would never take that for granted again.

“I can hear you thinking,” Peter croaked a solid forty minutes later. “You haven’t been watching me sleep, have you?”

“Just for a little bit,” he lied.

“Isn’t that boring?”

“Not when it’s my baby,” he said. “You’ll get it some day. Some day in the distant future, that is.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, cause I’m going to be a thirty year old virgin if you get your way…?” Pete rolled off of him, scooting down so that his nose barely poked out over the covers.

“I’m not a monster, Pete, I just want you to finish your sophomore year of high school,” he said lightly. “Think you can make breakfast today?”

Pete blinked open an eye. “Better than you,” he said seriously and gosh, what had Tony done to deserve this level of sass? He kissed Pete on the forehead. “Then show me how it’s done, maestro. I’m taking a shower.”

“Kay…”

Tony crawled out of bed, hunting around for his clothes. “Are you going to be here when I come out again?” he teased.

“No…”

“We’ll see, Mr. Parker.”

He took a relatively quick shower, definitely glanced at the mirror when he got out (no message there, probably for the best), and peeking out into the bedroom, got dressed out there when he was certain that the teen was indeed gone.

He flexed his ankle, considered leaving the cast off and then realized that was probably a terrible idea. He put it on with a sigh and padded out of the room.

Choices, choices. He stopped at the top of the front stairwell, almost went down to the kitchen and then he changed his mind. He could hear Pete down there, the music turned up, the teenager singing along- Smashing Pumpkins? He grinned. His parents would never outrun his taste in music, apparently. He’d passed it along to the next generation and with a little luck, the next one after that.

He went towards his old room first, but it wasn’t his bedroom he wanted to look in. The door to the left of his room was locked, always had been, he remembered. He’d been told to never go in there. Eventually it had faded into the landscape of the house- off limits, locked, forgotten. Now though…

Getting on his knee, he peered through the keyhole to the room. It was hard to discern anything in there, truth be told. He could see something far, far into the room, bars maybe? But it was hard to tell. He gave it up as a bad cause.

His watch beeped softly. He glanced at it; Friday was trying to grab his attention. Increased activity here.

Getting to his feet again, he inspected the door. A key, had he ever seen a key? He closed his eyes, trying to remember what had been in his parents’ effects after they’d died. Surely if they’d had a key on them at the time, he would have connected it to this room already, would have gone in. He’d been angry enough to defy them.

So if it hadn’t been on them… it had to be somewhere here…

He glanced at his watch and turned on his heel so that he was walking the rest of the way down the hallway in the other direction. Pete would probably almost be done by now, but he had a couple of minutes.

He moved past the guest room he’d put Pete in originally, past the room they were sharing now. Peggy’s room was in the corner, sure, but was there anything there? He’d have to look at some point. He’d loved Peggy like a second mother. He still missed her.

His mom would have had the key, he thought. The second floor was really her domain. So maybe…

Would she be mad at him, he wondered, as he eased into their bedroom. They’d been so private. She never would have allowed him in here when she was living. What was she thinking now, when she couldn’t stop him? Was he betraying her, looking through her stuff? Should he leave locked doors closed?

“I wanted to understand you,” he whispered into the quiet. “There were so many things you never said.”

Nothing. Had he been expecting an answer? Sort of. He opened the top drawer of her dresser. Several boxes. He lifted one out, setting it on top of the dresser. When he’d been young, she’d let him sit on their bed, and he’d helped her pick out jewelry. This one had her rings in it.

He stared down at them, each ring carefully sorted into place, held between velvet folds. She’d sorted based on ring size, gemstone, color, band, occasion. This was just the tip of the iceberg, he knew. Dad had gotten her rings as presents whenever they’d fought and god, they’d fought quite a bit.

“Tony?”

That was Pete at the top of the stairs. “I’m down here, Roo,” he called, his voice a little rougher than it usually was. He shut the box and placed it next to the others.

Pete tapped on the door, peeking around the corner of it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Tony had several things he could have said, but he opted for a crooked smile. “Snooping,” he offered. Pete just nodded. Sometimes the way his eyes looked made him look so much older. Tony thought Pete probably understood more than he let on. “Breakfast ready, honey?”

“Yeah. I thought you had fallen back asleep.”

“I would never. Come on. Hold my hand. I need you.” And it was a comfort, having the kid so solidly here with him. He’d never have come back alone.

Chapter Text

He started his phone conversation with May without preamble. “You never told me when you wanted the kid back.”

“I told you to bring him back when you got sick of him.”

“If that was true, I’d have brought him home yesterday-” Peter scoffed, tapping him sharply with his fork, but he was smiling, stuffing french toast into his mouth. A wind chime tinkled outside the window.

“Pete, what do you want to do?”

“I want to finish the week out with Tony,” Pete said, swallowing another bite of toast. “Did you talk to Steve?”

“Yeah, we had breakfast this morning. You know, when normal people eat breakfast-”

“Bite your tongue, it’s Sunday,” Tony said.

“Steve misses you something fierce, you know,” May said next. “All those baby pictures turned him gooey, it was disgusting to clean up, but I did it-”

“I’m the best, of course he misses me.”

“So humble, that Tony Stark-”

“Conversations with the two of you take forever,” Peter complained, but his eyes were sparkling. “May, will you come up to visit with Steve? Just for a day or so?”

“I have Thursday off. If you’re staying until then, I could come up on my day off. Assuming that’s alright with you, studmuffin?”

“I would never turn down seeing May Parker,” he said gravely. “Just as long as you don’t mind the ghosts and the grandiosity.”

“Steve said it seems like the ghosts only want to talk to you.”

“Some of them do. Others are more interested in the tech I brought along. But that’s pretty consistent with how things went-”

“If it gets to be too much, you can always come home,” she said. Had anyone else said it, he’d have thought they were pitying him, but he knew Peter’s hot aunt wasn’t the type. “I can handle it,” he assured her.

“Pete, are you doing any of the school work they assigned you?”

Judging from Pete’s guilty expression- no. “I’ll, uh, try to bang some of it out this afternoon,” he promised. “Most of it’s not that hard, I just don’t know what to do about the bio project-” He lapsed into silence, looking glum.

Perhaps May heard it anyway. “I told you, fill out the project with the family you have. If they mark you down, fuck them-”

“May, I don’t think you’re supposed to say things like that-” But he looked a little more cheery. “Okay…”

“I just don’t want you to be panic working through homework when I come up to visit.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Pete laughed at her. “I would never. If I haven’t done my homework by Thursday, fuck it, right?”

“Hell yeah-”

This was why he loved May Parker.

“So now we’ve got another thing to look for?” Pete asked afterwards, when May had hung up to watch a movie and work on her laundry. He was using the back hallway to run and slip on his socks, run and slip, like they were playing a life sized game of Sorry.

“If we happen to find a skeleton key, I wouldn’t be unhappy, let’s put it that way-”

“What do you think is in that room? You never went in there?”

“I never went in there. It’s been locked as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Did they ever go in there?” Pete stopped skidding around and came back to him, crowding him, comforting him somehow in the process. He was so vibrant.

“My parents? Not that I was aware of, but that doesn’t mean much. They had their own lives…”

Pete paused, looking a little hesitant to make his next suggestion. “You could probably force the door open…” he said, his voice trailing off. “If you really wanted to know.”

“I think we’ll try to find the key first,” he said, grinning at Peter and Pete relaxed. “Such a teenager suggestion,” he added fondly and said teen ducked his head, shrugging a little.

“You could use the Ironman suit to hover up to the second floor. Or-” Pete perked up. “I can crawl up the side of the building to see what I see, hang on-” And before Tony could say anything, Pete was off, dashing towards the front door and Tony? Tony shrugged, hobbling after Pete.

The teen had waited for him on the front lawn, looking sheepish. He offered to carry Tony- actually offered to carry him!- which the mechanic declined with dignity. He followed Pete out around the corner of the house, a hand on the small of his back, but he let his hand drop when they reached the appropriate windows-

“How are you-?” But Pete had already taken a flying leap, grabbing the top of the porch and pulling himself up easily so that he was standing on the porch roof, making his way easily along as though this was normal, as if anyone could have done this really- “Be careful for loose tiles,” Tony said resignedly.

“Sure, dadddd…”

“Little shit,” he mumbled. “I just want you safe!”

“You’d catch me if I fell-” Pete bent down to peer in the first window he came across, cursed under his breath, and continued on to the next one. “The curtains are all drawn- they must be heavy too, I can’t see through them-”

“Well then come back down, Roo, you’re going to give me heart palpitations-”

Pete walked to the edge of the porch and then, without fanfare, dropped right over the edge. “You know I fight crime, right? That’s how we met-?”

“Some day,” Tony began, “you’re going to have a teenager who does reckless, unnecessarily stupid things, and you’re going to call me up and beg me for forgiveness-”

But Pete hit his arm and he pointed- Tony thought it was just his griping that the teenager was protesting but then he followed the direction of his arm-

Oh. There were the distinct outlines of four people on the porch, one smaller figure leaning over the railing as if to see them better. He swallowed, shoving Pete behind him (even if they were friendly, they were still ghosts, for fuck’s sake), but even as he stepped closer to them, tried to get a better view, they were fading from sight.

“You saw that too, right?” he said quietly.

“Yeah…”

He looked hard at the space where they’d been, but there was nothing there now. He glanced up at the second floor at the windows. Something about that room? But what?

“How do we want to go about this? I think we should make a map,” Pete decided. He shivered; it was cool outside today. “Want to make a map of the house, Tony? I think you’d be better at it?”

“Sure,” Tony said absently. “Let’s get you back inside. It’s cold out here.”

Pete held his hand on the way in.

Chapter Text

They stole a half a dozen pages from the typewriter desk, opting to set up in the kitchen. Though neither of them had voiced the opinion, they both wanted to be as far away from what had just happened as they could be.

He didn’t bother to ask Pete if he wanted to leave, knowing what the kid would say. Instead, he let the kid hang over his shoulders as he sketched out a rough map of the place as it was- the kitchen in the back corner of the house, with garage written to the side of it, arrows pointing to the pool and the family plot behind the house, and then all the other rooms: the dining room and Dad’s study taking up the back wall, music room and conservatory on opposite sides of the main staircase, and the library and living room at the front of the house, twin sentinels. Pete pointed to the side of the house wordlessly and he wrote ‘rose garden’ dutifully which seemed to please the kid.

Pete sat down beside him as he began to work on the second and third floors. “We didn’t know to look for a key,” he said. “We’ll have to look everywhere.”

“I wouldn’t get too invested in finding it, Pete,” he said quietly, handing Pete the other sketch.

“There’s no copier here, is there?” Pete asked rather mournfully.

He huffed. “No. Come on, I’ll show you the next best thing.”

Leading the way down the hall, he opened the closet of his Dad’s study, finding the heavy machine he’d been looking for- this he handed to Pete. “Let’s bring it back to the kitchen. I’ll show you how to use it. Why do you want copies anyways? The memories?”

“So I can write on the map.”

“So you can write on the map,” he repeated to himself. “Do you know what this thing is called?” he asked, tapping it when Pete put it down on the table. Pete shook his head. “A mimeograph.”

He showed Pete how to use it, creating the stencil almost from rote memory and then pouring ink into the mimeograph machine itself before loading the stencil on. “And then you crank,” he said, demonstrating. He made three copies for the kid, moving each one to the side cause the ink was still wet.

“Woah, retro.”

Tony scoffed. “Retro…”

“Retro’s great.”

“Peter, please, you’re making me feel like I’m a billion years old-”

But Peter was too busy scrawling over one of the copies, making notes around the different rooms and Tony leaned in, interested despite himself. Pete used one copy of the diagram to mark the different places they’d had encounters of different kinds, another copy of the diagram to mark where they’d looked, and the third to write possible suggestions-

“What do you think is in that room?” he asked. “Something dangerous?”

“Dangerous like what?” Tony asked instead. He was considering the possibility. But no, probably not.

“I don’t know, like a bomb-?”

He had to laugh at this. “Petey Pie, my parents might not have loved me as much as I wanted them to, but I don’t think they’d store a bomb next to my bedroom.”

“We’ll table that then. For now.”

“Sure, kiddo.”

“Where are we going to look now?”

But he shook his head. “Nowhere, Pete. Let’s take a walk. See the foliage. Then you really should get started on that homework of yours.”

“Oh, but Tony-”

“Please, Pete? Could be a long walk,” he enticed.

“But your ankle…”

“Feels fine with the cast on it,” he said, only partially lying. “I’ll need to take some breaks. Won’t cramp your style too much.”

“Oh, okay. Wait in the front hall, I’ll go get our coats-”

And Pete was back before he even got to the front door.

Tony had his reasons for wanting to take a walk. First, to enjoy the nice weather. Contrary to popular opinion, he actually did like to go outside, thank you very much. He’d learned to love fall foliage from his husband; autumn was Steve’s favorite season and, looking at it through Steve’s eyes, Tony had come to love it just as much.

Second- the unexpected sighting this morning had freaked him out more than he cared to admit. There had been a moment there- before the cloud’s had shifted, before he’d taken a step forward- when he’d recognized them all. If he closed his eyes right now, he’d be able to see them still. They’d been translucent and yet- and yet!- he could tell what dress his mother had been wearing, could see her, peering out at him, something in her face, a yearning? Some kind of longing he’d recognized in himself, the feeling he’d felt sitting by Pete’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up, watching the scars fading as they pumped nutrients into him-

He’d felt her desire, the longing, from thirty feet off, and it had nearly knocked him on his ass. And he didn’t understand.

He’d wanted them to love him, yes, and on some level, he understood that they had in the best way they’d known how to, but that hadn’t stopped him from being disappointed sometimes, dissatisfied with their faults, the way they could turn away from him, the trips they booked (seemingly deliberately) on his holidays from school.

Ducking his head, he wondered where that longing had been when he’d been Pete’s age. It would have come in handy then.

A hand touched his. He looked up- Pete. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Pete. Got caught in my own thoughts.”

“What were you thinking about?” Pete was looking at him from the corner of his eye. They turned down the same path they’d taken previously.

“Thinking about my parents.” Peter hummed. “They’re really interested in what we’re doing.”

“Are they trying to prevent us from getting in that room?”

“So far, it doesn’t seem like they’ve had a plan. I think they’ve just been watching us.” The hairs on his neck stood up. He didn’t like being watched like that. “When my parents were alive, they wouldn’t have wanted me in that room. Do you think people continue to change after death? I guess I always thought that if there was something of an afterlife…”

“People would be kind of fixed,” Peter finished for him. “But then what would be the purpose if people couldn’t change? Maybe the afterlife is some kind of learning experience.”

“You’re so smart,” he told the kid. “You’re so much better than I ever was.”

“No, no, not really-”

“Really are,” he argued. He grinned at Peter. “I wish you were mine,” he added wistfully.

Pete blinked at him. The world was golden yellow around them, the leaves beautiful. All Tony could see was Pete. He slowed down so that he wouldn’t catch his foot on a root; the last thing he needed was to go sprawling. “You really mean that,” Pete said, sounding unduly surprised.

“Of course I mean that,” he said, nettled. “I’ve been telling you that for the past two years.”

“I could be yours,” Pete whispered. “May mentioned- she didn’t talk to you about this?- well, she thought…”

“We thought, if you were okay with it, I could adopt you,” Tony said. “Share custody until you turn 18. You don’t have to say yes or no right now. Just consider it, Pete? I really do love you.”

Pete’s eyes were watering and Tony knew the teenager didn’t like to cry in front of any of them. He pecked Tony abruptly on the cheek, a quick kiss before dropping back down onto his heels. “Let’s keep going. You need the exercise.”

“Wow, how rude,” he murmured, but his heart was a little lighter. Pete hadn’t said no. That was a start.

Chapter Text

“Here, we can sit in my dad’s lab, but you have to work on your schoolwork. I’m going to poke around. Dad’s lab wasn’t really safe under the best of circumstances, so I’d prefer that you don’t start investigating even if you didn’t have homework to do.”

They went up to the third floor again following their walk. Tony’d decided enough time had passed with him avoiding the lab. Most of the other places they’d searched had been the domain of others, a strange thought considering it had been Howard Stark’s home and yet there was so little of him in it, so little to prove that the man had once been there.

He’d stayed away from the third floor after their last encounter. The idea that his father was here, that he might be watching them, made everything different, made him frankly self-conscious.

“What are you going to work on?”

“English essay,” Pete sighed. “We had to read Ethan Frome- Tony, it was so boring.”

“The whole book is a metaphor for sex,” he said without thinking.

“What?” Pete wheeled around, coming back to him so they stood nose to nose.

Tony didn’t even know how he’d remembered that. He’d had to read the book in college, had similarly thought it was boring and then had had to reread the book to get all the tawdry illusions afterwards- “I don’t know, Pete,” he said evasively. “I don’t want to talk to you about that kind of shit. The red wedding plate represents- no, I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m googling it,” Pete said, pulling out his phone. He sat on Tony’s dad’s desk, sitting cross legged on the surface and tossing his backpack in the seat without looking to see where it landed. “Oh my god. Urgh-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s all about incest?” he heard Pete shout at him, ten minutes later.

“Tasteful incest,” he intoned, getting on his knees to look under the desk with a flashlight. He crawled around on the floor, looking at the desk for secret buttons, switches; he wouldn’t have put it past the old man to do something sly with the woodwork.

Pete peered at him over the top of the desk. “I don’t want to write an essay about incest.”

“Nobody does, pal.”

“This blows, Tony.”

“Sorry, baby.”

Tony moved Pete’s bag onto the ground, sitting in his dad’s chair. He fit his hands into the familiar indents on the arms of the chair; somewhere along the way, he’d grown to the same height as his father apparently. When he’d died, Tony’s dad had been two inches taller than him. It was a weird thought.

“Are you in here, you old bastard?” he asked without heat. Pete looked up at him but then went back to scrawling his notes on his tablet. Tony put his legs up on the corner of the desk and laced his fingers behind his head.

What he’d told Pete was the truth. Dad had plenty of things scattered in this space that probably weren’t kosher. He wanted a plan of attack before he got into it. Did the key matter that much to him? It did seem like that room had more of the concentration of readings, but really, looking at Pete’s map, things were happening everywhere in this fucking house…

What was in that room? Tony had given up on it when he’d been a kid in the name of peace but as an adult it was driving him a little batty. He knew his mom had gone in there, every once in a while, but she’d always locked the door behind her and once, when he’d caught her coming out, he’d tried to look past her and she’d actually backhanded him-

He tried to push that thought away. He could still remember the horrified expression on her face, the way she’d reached for him and he’d recoiled from her, afraid for a moment that she was going to hit him again and then realizing too late that she’d meant to comfort him instead. She’d burst into tears. Later, Dad had told him to stop fucking around with his mother.

Something rolled across the floor then, catching both of their attentions.

“It’s the arc reactor,” Pete said, scrambling down. “The fake one you made for me.” He turned it on, casting a strong blue light around him- like he’d caught a star.

“Well, you said you hadn’t lost it,” Tony said. “Seems like it got taken from you.” He had to push down the anger that had risen inside of him; this was why he tried so hard not to think about his parents. Thirty years later- an entire lifetime later- and he was still angry.

But Peter peered into the dark corners as if looking for his father and he said, “thanks for giving it back. Tony made it for me so I won’t be afraid. It reminds me of him.” He pocketed it.

He felt his anger dissipate just as quickly as it had come; he felt vaguely ashamed and ill at ease. Suddenly he needed to move.

“Will you read my paper about the tasteful incest afterwards?”

“Sure. I guess I’m always down for that.”

He was prowling the space around them now, wheeling the desk chair over to the other tables- how his dad had worked like this, he’d never know. It was like trying to set up shop in the Smithsonian. He wondered if his dad had made a secret lab somewhere else and this was just really for show.

“Can I work on a project this week?” Pete asked, not looking up. “I had an idea…”

“Sure. What are you thinking?”

But Pete just shook his head. “Don’t want to tell you unless I can make it work,” he murmured, looking at Tony under his long lashes. “I’ll tell you about it if I do!”

“Okay, baby. Let me know if I can help at all-”

Clasping Pete’s shoulders, he moved through the room and towards the far corner of his father’s laboratory, idly examining the shelves as he went by. Strange, looking at some of these old projects of his. He’d half forgotten most of them. And he really wasn’t the boy that had made them anymore. He felt a strange sense of loss.

His father’s lab though… Despite how little time he’d spent here- he hadn’t been allowed in, in the strictest sense of the word- he still remembered everything as if it had just been yesterday when his father had worked here.

He’d barely made it out of the corner when Pete dropped down to come join him. Standing up fast, he banged his head against the filing cabinet he’d been searching through. He swore lightly, feeling a bump on the back of his head forming.

Pete was by him in a flash. “Sorry- you okay, Tony? Did I do that?”

“No, no, kid, I didn’t realize the other drawer had drifted open…” Tony leaned against one of the flat surfaces of shelving. “Should have looked where I was going before I got up- are you okay? You need help?” He could hide the symptoms of a concussion. He could.

Pete was eyeing him critically. “No, I don’t need help necessarily,” he said abruptly. “I was just wondering-” He shuffled his feet. “Can I look through the stuff with you? Just for a few minutes? I finished my essay.”

Tony paused, rubbing the bump on his head. His dad wouldn’t have allowed it- even Tony hadn’t really been allowed in here when he was a teen- but on the other hand, his father was dead and who was he trying to impress, really? He loved having Pete near him. “Yeah, bud. But don’t touch anything- please.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Pete paused. “But why?”

Tony was a bit distracted by some of the inventions in this drawer- Dad’s mind had worked entirely differently from his own. “My dad made some good things and some bad things. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which.”

“Bad things like what-?”

“Bombs, new elements, weapons- he didn’t really stop to think if he should make something- he just made it and then dealt with it afterwards. He called them his ‘bad babies.’ But he used to say I was his worst ‘bad baby’ of all. Probably joking. At least mostly.”

“You were never bad,” Pete said, sounding confused.

“You don’t think so?”

“I know you weren’t-”

“Ah, well you didn’t know me when I was a kid. Maybe I was difficult. I always wanted their attention.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Pete argued, still scrawling notes.

“You’re not going to let me win this one, are you?” Pete shook his head firmly. Tony cracked a smile. “Alright, you win, you creton. Do you miss patrolling?” he asked, drawing Pete in front of him and showing him what he’d been looking through- old unfinished projects- some of these he’d even helped his father with.

“A little. I get antsy when I don’t,” Pete made a hand motion, “really exert myself for a while.”

“You can run suicides in the front lawn before it gets dark tonight.”

“Probably should do something. I’m no runner though. Did you bring your suit with you?” Pete asked next, surprising him.

“The Ironman suit?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s in the trunk of the car,” he said. “But I’ve been working on the nanotech suit still. I think that one’s near operational.”

“Can we go flying in your suit some time this week?”

He hummed. Pete did love it when Tony took him flying. “Yes, Petey,” he agreed. He really couldn’t say no to this kid apparently. “But only once you’re done your homework.”

“You play dirty,” Pete said, ducking under his arm, but he was grinning. Tony watched him slip through the room and into the other lab.

“You don’t like this room better than my lab at home, do you?” he called out.

“I like your lab, I just like being with you more,” Pete said earnestly, opening his bag and scrounging for something else now.

And Tony didn’t know what to say about that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the drawer in the filing cabinet drift open again. He turned his head so fast his neck cricked. He’d already searched that drawer- nothing in there. “What in the world?” he mumbled to himself, snapping it shut again.

“Tony, I’m going to put some music on,” Pete said, hefting a milk crate onto the desk.

“Okay, baby.”

“I’ll stay out of your way-” Pete climbed back on top of his dad’s desk, again sitting cross legged. He began to dig through the crate. Tony shut his mouth with a click. “You’re never in my way,” he said. He swallowed down what he’d been about to say about his dad and people sitting on his desk. It didn’t matter. And Pete looked comfy.

Tony opened the next drawer instead.

“Tony…?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Would they have liked me, do you think?”

“My parents?” Pete hummed. “Yes,” he said without a trace of hesitation. Pete was everything they’d wanted Tony to be and everything he’d not been- kind, good, eager to please, easy going… “They would have liked you better than they liked me,” he said very, very quietly.

“Doubt it.”

Damn Pete’s super hearing. “Just kidding, of course.”

“Uh huh, sure. Like I’m kidding when I say-” But the kid stopped talking and Tony followed his line of sight. That drawer had been pulled open again. And Tony knew he’d shut it this time for sure. “There’s got to be something in that drawer, Tony.”

“I already searched it,” he insisted, pulling over a box to stand on so that he could really look into the file from above. Pete padded over, climbed up the wall and hung upside down, turning on his phone to shine into the drawer.

“They probably do wonder about this whole thing though,” he said, making a gesture at Pete’s place on the ceiling.

“Yeah, yeah, most people do-”

He pulled out the entirety of the contents of the drawer, piling them into an empty box and showing them to the kid one at a time. Nothing too dangerous in here, which was good, but nothing particularly interesting either-

“Look, in the corner,” Pete said, pointing the flashlight in the corner he meant. “Is that a piece of paper?”

It was. Tony pulled it out, having to extricate it carefully to avoid ripping it.

“What’s it say?” Pete asked, letting go of the ceiling and dropping soundlessly down beside him.

“Here, you take it, kiddo.” Tony’s eyes were watering and that wouldn’t do. He pulled open a drawer at random. “I’m going to keep looking.”

“Okay…” Pete was still staring at the little drawing.

Tony had thought they’d thrown that picture out. He hadn’t seen it since he was five. Why had his dad kept it? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pete stash it in his pocket. He dropped noiselessly to the ground. Tony didn’t know what to make of all this. His father had never been sentimental. Why was he so insistent on Tony finding that picture now?

Chapter Text

Out of an intense feeling of camaraderie that night, he sat with Peter as the teen worked through his homework- “I don’t want to be working on this every day, Tony, we’d better finish it tonight”- checking over his work as he pushed it over his way, although what errors Pete thought that he’d find was beyond the mechanic; Pete was so damn smart, Tony found that he was learning stuff from him-

“What are you working on?” Pete asked, sounding rather grumpy.

“I’m writing my Christmas cards.”

“You’re shitting me-”

He laughed. “I am!” He held up the cards.

“Dude, why did you even bring those? We’re supposed to be busting open the great mysteries of the universe here!”

“You brought homework, I brought Christmas cards. Focus, padawan.”

Pete grumbled, but he buried his nose back in his trig book, working steadily through absurd questions. “Are you going to write me one?” he asked, turning the page.

“Of course, Pete. You’re my favorite kid.”

“I’m your only kid…”

“Well, that’s true.”

He watched the kid. Pete was holding the mini arc reactor, rolling it in his wrist unconsciously, occasionally turning it on and off again; he wouldn’t call attention to it, but he wanted to know what was going on in kid’s head, if that was just his ADHD- if it was his anxiety- “Want a snack?” he asked.

“What are you making?” Pete asked and he scoffed. The kid had never once turned down extra food, not with that super metabolism.

“I’ll make you caramel popcorn-”

“With chocolate?”

“With chocolate, of course,” he sighed, as if this was an extra burden. “Do you want to join me or do you want to power on through?”

“I’ll keep working on this,” Pete said, looking at the books in front of him with furrowed brow. “Tony, it never seems to end.”

“It’s only high school, Pete,” Tony says bracingly, getting to his feet. He pecked Pete on the forehead. “There are more important things.” Making a decision, he flipped the book Pete had been working from shut. “Come to the kitchen with me. You earned a break.”

And he thought the kid would argue with him based on the expression on his face but after a moment, the expression passed, Pete’s face clearing, and he almost thought the kid looked relieved. “Yeah, you need me,” Pete decided. “You’d burn the popcorn on your own.”

“One time and for the rest of my life-”

Pete was determined, Tony would give him that.

By the time they went to bed that night, Pete had worked his way through a good three quarters of the work they’d assigned and really, they’d assigned him way too much considering he’d been signed out of school for a mental health vacation. What were they playing at?

“Your dad would think I was weak though, wouldn’t he?” Pete whispered to him as they got under the covers. “Sleeping with you when I’m almost an adult and needing a nightlight-?”

“Fuck anyone who would think less of you,” he murmured. “They don’t know what you’ve been through.”

“It doesn’t bother Steve, me sleeping in bed with you?”

“Steve understands that you’re my child.”

Pete nuzzled his shoulder almost unconsciously; Tony’s heart thrummed. “He doesn’t think less of me?” he whispered.

“Steve thinks the world of you. Want me to call him? We could wake him up and ask him-”

“No, no, don’t wake him-”

But this had broken the tension at least. He could tell Pete wanted to apologize for the assurances, for the extra questions, but Tony didn’t want his apologies, didn’t need them either. “At the end of the day, Pete,” he said, rolling over so that he could curl an arm around the kid, “it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you. I want you to know that you’re the strongest person I’ve met. But if it helps- I’m so proud of you, baby. Being able to hold you is my favorite thing. Don’t try to take that from me.”

“Okay,” Pete said after a very long pause. “Okay.”

“Go to sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

Tony didn’t know when he fell asleep exactly, just that he did at a certain point, after the house had settled, after Pete’s breaths had evened out, after the million thoughts that pervade the day have been sorted into their spots. One moment, he was thinking about how when he was very, very little, his mom used to lay his clothes out for him at the end of the bed, and the next, he was out.

Usually he dreamt while he slept; it was hard to get the brain to really stop working ever, but tonight there was nothing, just a billion stars and the sky above and so it was confusing when a shout woke him up- confusing cause there was no noise and suddenly there was lots of noise-

He was asleep, yes, and then suddenly he’s awake because that’s his kid- “Peter!” he said, getting up.

Pete was sitting up, half in a crouch actually, looking like he’s going to run and when Tony turned on the light, he was startled at how wild Pete’s eyes were- for a moment, Tony thought that Peter must be overstimulated, that the lights are too much- he went to turn the light off again but then Pete spoke- “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Leave it on?”

“On is better,” Tony agreed immediately, crawling over to where Pete was and clutching at him. “Hey, baby boy. Hey, honey. What’s wrong? I’m right here. Dad’s here.” He didn’t realize what he was saying until it was too late and while he couldn't take the words back, Pete doesn’t seem to be listening to the words and that’s probably for the best.

“She’s not- she’s not here, is she? I just- I thought-” Pete was clutching him, a little too tight, but Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him to let go. He stroked the kid’s sides, whispering assurances. “That woman’s on the Raft, Pete,” he said. “That’s where she’s staying.”

“I thought. I thought-” Pete was still panting and Tony hated that.

“Come on, deep breaths with me,” he coaxed. “Put your hand on my heart. Feel that beat? You’re going to match it. Look in my eyes, baby.”

Pete matched his breathing until his own started to normalize. When it did, Pete let his head fall on Tony’s shoulder and Tony made his move, scooping Pete up, settling him into his lap. “Someone’s in the room,” Pete murmured into his ear. “At least one, maybe two.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can feel them, especially now. Now that I know what I’m looking for. They came in before you woke up- I think they woke me up-”

He rocked Pete in his arms. “Are they scaring you?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. You let me know.” He thought the ghosts would probably leave if Pete said they were bothering them. Two ghosts. His parents? His mom and Ana? He thought one of them was most likely his mom.

He laid Pete back down on the bed, half crouched over him and probably looking ridiculous. “Something set you off, Petey?”

“No, I was having a good day. Felt really safe. Sometimes it comes back,” Pete whispered.

“Okay. Okay,” he said. “I get that. I have nightmares about Afghanistan sometimes.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, buddy.” He swung his leg over Pete and dropped down beside him, curling as close as he could get. “I got nightmares after my parents died. If anyone gets having nightmares for no good reason, it’s me. No shame in it- right?”

“Right?” Pete didn’t sound sure.

“Steve’s really good at helping me when I wake up scared.”

“What does he do?”

He was conscious of the fact that they were still very likely being observed right now and that furthermore, he didn’t know by whom he was being observed. But Pete needed his help and his focus. He put the knowledge that his mom might be right there with them aside. “Well, we talk about it. He lets me say whatever it is that I want to say- sometimes that’s not much, either- And then he tells me all the things that he loves about me until I fall back asleep again. And I do fall back asleep again.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is nice,” he agreed. “I never thought I’d be a person- that it was impossible someone could love me that much, you know? But Steve never runs out of things to say. It’s sickening.”

“He really loves you.”

“I think so. Can I try that with you, Pete?”

Pete was blushing faintly. Tony waited for him; he thought that Pete had the look of someone who wanted to be loved but didn’t want to admit that he needed it. “I’m giving it a whirl,” he decided. He yawned a little despite himself- it was the middle of the night after all- and he kissed Pete on the forehead. “Let’s see…”

“Trouble thinking of anything?” Pete joked after the moment stretched out to a minute.

“Trying to think of where to start, shithead.” The teenager snorted faintly. “Okay- In no particular order, Mr. Parker: I love how kind you are, I love it when you tell jokes. I think you’re so goddamn funny. You make me laugh every day. I like it when you dance and you think nobody’s seeing you and the silly look on your face when we catch you. I love your stupid nerdy jokes…”

Chapter Text

Someone had turned out the light after he and Pete fell asleep; they weren’t even trying to hide themselves now. Tony woke Monday morning with the sunlight streaming in their eyes from a window whose curtains had definitely been drawn the night before and he rolled around to look at the clock.

Christ. They were never going to get Pete to wake up at normal school hours if they let this week rule the show.

Rolling back over, he considered his young charge. Pete was still asleep; Tony wanted to give him that. Sleep helped Pete heal. And wasn’t that the main cause of taking this week off together.

He snagged his phone, seeking out his husband’s contact. ‘Hey,’ he typed out. He sent this, yawning, sliding down under the covers again and waiting.

‘Hey, baby!’

He suppressed a snort with difficulty. His husband had never lost his enthusiasm. Tony loved that. He tapped his phone against his chin, thinking about what to write. ‘Pete had a pretty bad nightmare last night. Still sleeping now.’

There was a long pause; Tony had to imagine that Steve was writing and rewriting his message because what he typed back had definitely not taken that long. ‘About what happened in March?’

‘Yeah. He didn’t want to talk about it really.’

There was an even longer pause this time. ‘Can I come over there, Tones? Even just to visit?’

He glanced at Pete, burrowed down under the covers and with his forehead pressed against Tony’s upper arm now. ‘Can you come for a day or two? Any missions?’

‘Let me clear things with Nat. I’ll let you know-’

He nodded to himself, tossing the phone aside. He bit his lower lip, scrutinizing the kid; much as he wanted to let the kid sleep, he knew it would throw off his routine to let this go on for much longer. He touched Pete’s shoulder, beginning to stroke slow circles on the exposed skin. “Pete. Roo.”

Brown eyes blinked open and shut again just as quickly. “Baby,” he tried again. “Time to get up.”

“Oh, but Tonyyy.”

He laughed at this. “Come on, kiddo. Go take a shower. You reek.”

“I do not.”

“Well, maybe not,” he conceded, “but I feel like you’re well on your way, being a teenager boy and all. Humor me. Jump in the shower. It’s my turn to make breakfast. Any requests?”

Pete squinted at him. “Bacon,” he groused.

“Bacon,” Tony agreed. “Just that, nothing else?”

“Dude,” Pete complained.

He rolled out of bed, coming around the end to lean over the kid. “Alright, alright, the works. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Tired…”

Pete was avoiding it then. “Alright. Shower will help with that. I’ll brew some coffee.”

“Tony?” He turned around at the door. “Last night helped.”

Huh. Maybe they were making progress. “I’m glad, Roo. You know you can always come to me, right?” Pete nodded, not looking at him. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs.”

He read the latest text from Steve as he walked down the stairs- he could come that night if it wasn’t too soon and they’d put him on the back up list for missions; Tony felt a little selfish. With both him and Steve off the roster, it would fall on the others to cover more. Still, they tried to do their fair share and he knew his family would want Pete to be the priority.

‘Bring a pizza. Bring us a bunch of pizzas,’ he texted back. ‘I love you xxxx’

He was diverted from his trek to the kitchen by the sight of an open door. Despite them closing the doors each night, it seemed like he invariably came downstairs each day to find things moved around. “You’re not even trying to hide now,” he said aloud, drifting into his mother’s music room.

He sat down at the piano, running through a chord progression with his right hand, then his left, before playing them together. He started the opening notes to Songbird, one of the few songs his mom and he had actually agreed on.

He was half relieved and half disappointed when there was no sign of their resident ghosts. They seemed to be getting more comfortable insinuating themselves into the rooms and yet now it was quiet.

“What is it, you like my kid better?” he joked out loud, getting up. No answer. Oh well. Maybe they did. That would make sense too.

“There’s two ways we could approach this,” he said to Pete after they were done eating, after they’d wandered out into the rest of the house. “Continue to search the rooms as we come across them for general psych energy or focus on the key-”

“Or a third way- we befriend the ghosts,” Pete ticked off.

“Seems really hopeful, but fine, there’s three ways we can go about this. Is that the horse you’re riding on?”

“I think it can be done while we do the other ones.”

He hummed. “We could try to draw them out by doing something destructive and dumb,” he suggested. Pete laughed outright at this.

“That’s not your style anymore.”

“Ouch.”

“I still think that room’s the focus,” Pete said stubbornly. “You said nobody ever went in there?”

“Well, my mom was in there one time,” he said, rubbing his face absently. “I kind of forgot… She was upset when I tried to see in the room. That was when I was really little, Pete, it’s been a long, long time.”

“So she was the last one to have the key,” Pete said, absently doing a somersault. So much energy…

“I last saw it in her possession, but I don’t know-”

“Would they answer you, do you think, if you asked a question?” the teen asked, glancing up at him. He flipped upright again, landing with a tiny bounce.

“Like they’d spell it out in the salt?” he asked.

“The typewriter. At least one of them has been writing to you. And you never did look at their last message,” the kid reminded him.

He’d forgotten. But the typewriter had scared him more than he cared to admit. “Somehow I think they’ll be a little less than forthcoming about this particular topic. Maybe we’d better start by looking through things ourselves.”

Pete looked disappointed, but he accepted it. “Tony,” he said, taking the mechanic’s hand. “Will you tell me about them? You haven’t really, so far.”

“My parents? The Jarvises?”

“Yeah. So I know what they were like. Might help figure out where they hide things,” he added, but Tony had a feeling that wasn’t 100% Pete’s motivation in this.

“Alright, kid,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s start in the music room. And you can ask me whatever it is you would like.”

Chapter Text

“What were they like? Were they good parents?”

Tony had been prepared to answer anything, but he had to give Pete an incredulous look at this. “Peter Parker, I have the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon. That’s where you’re starting?”

“Oh. Need it broken down a bit more?”

“Yes, please,” he said, tapping the kid on the forehead.

Mom had been a skilled piano player. He opened the top of the piano, glancing over the strings- no key and that wasn’t a shock, it would have changed the notes- before he turned on his phone light, pointing it at the strings. Nothing under there either.

“Who used this room?” Pete asked and that was better.

“My mom, mostly. Ana could play the violin and the flute- those are hers, over there- and they would often play together. Mom never really mastered the violin but she was pretty adept at most other things.”

“Were they friends?”

“Yes, very much so. All four of them were, actually, so it kind of makes sense that they’re still together. If that’s what’s going on.”

“Wasn’t that kind of unusual since…?” Pete trailed off.

“Since Ana and Jarvis worked for my parents?” Tony pulled down Ana’s violin case and gingerly opened it. He heard Pete say yes in answer to his question. Carefully, he removed the instrument, feeling around in the case for loose fabric, hidden compartments, something- nothing- “Yes, I guess you could say so. Jarvis and my father met shortly after the war and they struck up a friendship. Jarvis was devoted to Ana. My mom was the last addition to their little quartet, but in some ways, she was closer to the Jarvises than my father was.”

“Why?”

He replaced the violin and replaced it on the shelf. He reached for another case. “My dad was apparently a different man when they all first met. He got colder as time went on. More distant,” he clarified.

“What do you think happened to him? Did he get hurt?”

Kind Pete. Good, sweet Pete. Always so quick to empathize. “Do you think something happened to him?”

“People change for a reason.” Pete had sat down at the piano and was touching the keys- touching them, but not playing them-

“You can play something, you know. Won’t break it, honey,” he said gently.

“I don’t know how to-”

“Oh.” Tony gave up looking through the sheet music to come sit beside the teenager. He placed Pete’s thumb on middle C and, reaching across him, set up his other hand on the next octave down. “Here’s where you start. Always begin in the middle. Just try with your right hand right now- can you copy what I’m doing?” He began to climb an octave.

“I don’t know what happened to my dad,” he said, in answer to Pete. “They said that he was different. My mom would tell me when I got upset. But by the time I knew him? That’s just who he was.”

“What does my left hand do?” Pete asked and that’s why he loved this kid so much. Pete just got him. Knew when things were too heavy and when to let it go. He showed him how to play chords with his left. “So you learned piano from your mom?”

“No. I learned after she died.” He could feel Pete’s look on him. He twitched a smile in the kid’s direction. “She tried to teach me a couple of times, but we’d both get upset. I wasn’t very… receptive.”

“Why did you learn later then?”

He got up, pressing a kiss to Pete’s crown. “Made me feel close to her again,” he whispered. “Going to keep looking, kiddo. Tell me when you want me to teach you something new.”

“Okay…”

But Pete seemed to be picking up things on his own, if listening to him was any indication. Tony went back to the sheet music, looking behind boxes of mouthpieces, spare strings, tuning forks. He climbed on a box to look at the shelving from above and was seriously contemplating sticking his hand in the cello (talk about your intrusive thoughts) when he heard Pete laugh faintly.

He looked up. The kid was watching the piano… and his hands were still. But- Tony clutched at the shelving, feeling a little faint- the piano was still playing nevertheless and after a moment, Pete tried to imitate the phantom sounds. He looked up and caught Tony watching him; he froze.

Tony… Tony felt a wave of inexplicable jealousy and longing in that moment. But Pete- Pete thought he’d done something wrong. He made his voice light. “She finally found someone receptive, baby. Keep going.”

“I think… I think she’s done,” Pete said. “I can’t really feel her in the room now.”

Tony felt an odd sense of loss, a rise of anger, a fall of despair. He ran his tongue over his teeth, contemplating what Pete was saying. Briefly, he considered that Pete might just be lying to spare his feelings, but Pete didn’t really lie. “You really can feel them now?” he asked instead.

Peter nodded. “I think I always could, I just didn’t know what that was. Like sometimes my senses would ping, but then there’d be nothing there? But I think it’s people around us. It’s like you said the other day. Death’s not as scary as we think it is.”

He swallowed hard. “How long was she here, Pete?”

And Peter had the decency to look a little abashed. “The whole time,” he said quietly.

“Ah.” Tony gave the cello a little shake. Mom wouldn’t have thrown a key in the cello. That was absurd. None of them would have, with the exception of him. Because he’d been what they’d said about him- brash, impulsive, impertinent.

“Tony, are you mad at me?”

He looked up again. “Mad at you?” he repeated. “Never, Roo. Never.”

“For a moment…” Pete trailed off.

He couldn’t have Pete thinking he was mad. He eased back down onto the seat, bumping shoulders with the spiderling. “Just jealous of you, honey. Just for a moment. I miss my mom, you know. That’s all.”

And Pete dropped his head against Tony’s shoulder, pressing his forehead there for a second and then giving it a quick, rather shy kiss. “That makes sense,” he said.

“I have a surprise coming this afternoon,” he said next.

Peter perked up. “What?”

“Not telling you,” he laughed. “Ruins the surprise. You’ll like it,” he assured Pete. “I know you will.” He gestured expansively at the piano. “Show me what you learned, maestro.”

Chapter Text

“Is your foot getting better?” Pete asked that afternoon when Tony had insisted on them taking a walk outside.

“Yes, I think so. Even us elderly folks eventually heal,” he joked.

“Old, you’re in your forties,” Pete interjected.

“Bless you, Peter-”

“You’re so dumb,” the teenager laughed.

Pete insisted on attempting to pick the lock upstairs when they got back, putting the kit that Steve had given him for Christmas the year before to good use if not good effect- the door remained shut. “It was worth a try,” Tony said reasonably from where he was sitting with his back against the wall.

“I’m not done, there might be something else,” Pete grunted, twisting and turning to look at the lock mechanism.

“Alright,” Tony agreed. He suspected his father had reinforced this door. Tony had known how to pick locks too as a kid. Jarvis had taught him, probably an ill advised move on the butler’s part, but Tony had been eager and Jarvis, kind, so-

The doorbell rang.

“Was that the doorbell?” Pete asked, his head popping up. “My surprise?”

“I think you’re just hearing things,” Tony said hastily, scrambling to his feet while Pete tried to corral his lock picks- one of them rolled under the door of the room they were trying to break into and wasn’t that just a little ironic-

He could see Steve’s broad frame through the door’s side windows and, climbing on the banister to slide down, he thought he’d get there first for sure, but-

Nope. Pete actually jumped the length of the stairwell, landing catlike at the bottom and dancing in front of the mechanic while he hopped down from the banister. “What if that broke under you?” Pete asked seriously. “Wouldn’t that have been embarrassing?” And before Tony could even attempt to answer that, he asked- “You convinced Steve to come out here?”

He yanked the front door open without waiting for Tony to reply and Tony didn’t have a reply anyways-

“Ohh,” Steve had seized Pete around the middle, pushing into the front hall and swinging him in a circle, giving him dozens of kisses. “Bug, I’ve missed you.”

“Ah, Steve-”

“Not me?” Tony asked from his place by the stairs.

Steve dropped Pete- Pete squawked in protest- and was upon Tony in three strides. “Tony,” he said warmly. “I missed you too, of course.” He kissed Tony deeply, pushing him back into the wall in his earnestness and Tony laughed into the kiss, seizing the back of Steve’s neck to stabilize himself-

There was the sudden clacking off a dozen falling picture frames as one end of the front entryway’s table dipped unexpectedly and all of the family photos his momma had selected to put on display tipped forward, sliding towards the front before the table seemed to right itself. One picture almost dropped to the ground and then stopped, midair, reversing direction and resuming its original position. Steve broke off his kiss to watch this with some disbelief.

Tony tapped him on the cheek. “Welcome to Hill House,” he said brightly. Surging forward, he planted another kiss on the captain. “Maybe the ghosts are homophobic. Who would have thought?”

“Uhhh…”

Pete took Steve’s other arm. “Tony didn’t even tell me you were coming. Can you believe that?”

“I told you I had a surprise coming this afternoon, don’t lie to my husband.”

“When you said that you had a surprise, I thought you were going to show me like a penny whistle or something-”

“Seriously? A penny whistle? Anyways- I thought I told you to bring pizza-”

“I did,” Steve shouted over their chaos. He was beaming at them and he pulled both of them closer. “I did,” he said quieter. “It’s in the backseat of the car. Come help me bring it in,” he told Pete, kissing his forehead. “Please?”

“Yeah-” Pete stole the keys from Steve’s pocket and ducked out the front door, jumping the front steps for good measure too apparently.

Steve was still looking at him, his smile much fonder now that it was just the two of them. “I really did miss you,” he said. “House was too quiet without you.”

“I should get that in writing.” And because Tony had missed Steve- and because he liked offending his resident ghosts- he seized the captain around the neck, standing on his tiptoes to give him a very hearty kiss-

“The two of you are sickening,” Pete said, trotting past them with no less than 8 pizza boxes. “Come on, while it’s still hot-”

“We’ll give you the grand tour later,” Tony promised, shutting the front door.

Steve was pivoting on his heel, looking up at the entrance hall with something akin to wonder and interest. “This is where you grew up?”

“This is where I grew up,” he agreed, snagging Steve’s arm and pulling him (like he could force Steve to do anything) towards the dining room where Pete was setting up apparently.

“It’s…” Steve trailed off.

“Yeah, it certainly is,” he joked.

“I’ll get drinks from the kitchen, don’t take my seat- I’m at the head of the table,” Pete said, swanning past him.

“Need help, bubba?” Steve called.

“Nope!”

He looked at Tony, assessing him. “How’s your leg?”

“My leg’s fine, my feet however need a massage-”

“After we eat,” Steve promised. He accepted a can of ginger ale from Peter and began handing out plates from the stack. “What do you want to start with, honey?”

“Pesto chicken.”

“Did you come because I had a nightmare last night?” Pete asked, following Steve to the end of the table with all the boxes. He helped the captain look for the correct box, lifting the others rather handily.

“I came cause I missed my boys,” Steve said cheerfully. And- “I was promised a sleepover.”

“Oh, but you probably don’t want-”

“You said it yourself, Pete,” Tony said. “You’re in the middle.”

“But don’t the two of you want…”

“Think I’m going to get handsy with my husband with my ghost parents floating around? Does that sound like something I’d do?” Across from him, Steve shrugged. Pete looked like he could go either way. Tony sighed. “Well, I’m not. I can be responsible-”

Pete snorted, taking a huge bite of his buffalo chicken pizza. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told Steve.

“Yeah?”

He gestured at Tony. “He’s pretty obnoxious on his own so yeah-”

“Hey, hey, hey-”

Under the table, Steve lifted one of his feet into Tony’s lap, pressing it into the space right next to his hip. He grinned at Tony. Tony was so glad to have him here, he couldn’t really protest. Dropping his own slice on his plate, he grabbed Pete’s hand momentarily, squeezing it. God, he loved his boys.

Chapter Text

After that initial introduction in the front hallway, the ghosts were surprisingly quiet following Steve’s arrival.

Tony had three slices of pizza and called it good. He sat back, watching his enhanced family members carving their way through a good portion of the other boxes of pizza. He had to wonder what their ghosts thought of these two- wondered if his dad’s focus would shift now that the prodigal son, Captain Steve Rogers, had arrived.

And what did dear old Dad think about his disappointment of a son marrying the peak of human perfection? Homosexuality aside, that had to be a hard nugget to swallow.

He got up while they bantered about what to do next- Steve wanted to tour the place and then look at photos, Pete was game for the tour but wanted to play boardgames- “I’ll take the plates to the kitchen. Do you want ice cream or are you finally full?”

“Always room for ice cream,” Pete said immediately.

“What kind do you have?”

“Chocolate chip and you people are ridiculous. I’ll be back-”

Someone had moved the stack of papers they’d left that morning, taking a sheet off the top and leaving it on the counter, one of the pencils neatly lined up beside it. Tony halted on the threshold, staring at it, wanting to ignore it, but he couldn’t-

Putting the dishes in the sink, he pulled the paper over.

The handwriting was undoubtedly his father’s. He felt a chill run down his spine and had to fight the urge to run back to the dining room, to the safety of his loving family. One sentence on the paper. ‘Was your boy enhanced with super soldier serum?’

Of course that would be the first thing he’d ask.

He considered not answering, especially after whatever that was in the front hall, but couldn’t help himself. ‘No,’ he scrawled back. He paused, not sure how to really summarize the strangeness of Pete’s spider origins. ‘He was bitten by a radioactive spider that mutated his DNA. He’s similar to Steve. Not the same.’ And because there was part of him that was still a little mad and hurt under it all, he added at the end of the note- ‘He’s perfect. I wouldn’t change him at all. I didn’t experiment on him.’

So written, he got the carton of ice cream out along with three bowls. Ana’s ice cream scoop, heavy and solid in his hand, was where it had always been. Grabbing spoons, he pushed through the butler’s pantry and back to his guys.

“Did you decide what we’re going to do?” he asked and he was relieved to hear his normal voice. He handed the scoop to Pete. “Use your super strength,” he added.

“We’re going to play games after the tour.”

“So you won.”

“I had the most cohesive argument, yeah.”

“Uh huh.” He glanced up at his husband. Steve’s eyes were shining with mirth and affection. Despite his promises, he reached out and touched the captain’s knee with his socked foot. Steve grabbed it immediately, caressing his toes. “What are we playing, Pete?”

“I’m letting Steve pick, we left the games in the living room.”

“Fair enough.”

“Natasha says ‘hi’, by the way,” Steve said to Tony. “She sends her love.”

“She’s not mad at us for making her cover so many of the missions?”

“Nah. You’re her favorite.” Tony made a high disbelieving noise. “I swear,” Steve said, laughing. “You know she just uses me for my body heat-”

“I mean, we’re all doing that-”

“And Bruce has been working on something that he said you will find interesting when you return. He said you should take a look at it too, when you’re at the Compound next,” he added kindly to Peter.

“Did he say what it was?” Pete asked, sounding intrigued.

“He said lots of things I didn’t understand. Something about radiation exposure and regenerative tissue in plants. I don’t know.” Both Tony and Pete were nodding; Tony remembered Bruce starting on that experiment right before he’d gotten word of what was going on in the family home. He wanted to know what Bruce had found out since. “I’m really just the pretty face in this family, aren’t I?” Steve asked.

“Don’t be so down on yourself, you’re also my talented little himbo.” Pete laughed into his ice cream, making a sputtering noise.

“Oh, well at least I’m talented.” Steve beamed at him. “So is this like meeting the inlaws? They’re already not excited to see me.”

“Maybe they were just surprised you’re gay,” Pete pointed out fairly. “And that you’re gay.”

“Bisexual. My dad was probably upset that you married me. Like canceling his favorite person out with his least favorite person all in one go-”

“You couldn’t possibly be his least favorite person,” Pete protested, but Steve exchanged a look with Tony; the captain had heard enough about Tony’s childhood at this point that the soldier probably understood there was no blame, no anger in Tony’s words, just simple acceptance and a little bit of pain.

“My dad and I were like oil and water,” he said lightly. “Wasn’t personal. He just didn’t seem to like me. Want the last spoonful?”

Pete was frowning but he let Tony hold the spoon out to him, eating it without complaint. “Ready to do the tour?” he asked Steve.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll put this away,” Tony said, grabbing the rest of the ice cream carton. He tapped Pete on the head as he went past.

Back in the kitchen, he put the carton away. He hesitated in the center of the room, wondering if there was something new on the paper, wondering if he was getting his hopes up for nothing. The things his dad had said had always been disappointing- Tony had understood his father, but still had been disappointed by him-

Still. He crossed the room and pulled the paper over. Dad had written something else. His heart leapt into his throat. Dad had written, ‘he’s just like you.’ And Tony felt tears blur in his eyes, unexpected, and he couldn’t cry here, not with his father maybe in the room right now. Peter was ‘just like him?’ Was that good? Was it bad?

Pete was so much better than he’d ever been, so warm and loving, funny and intelligent, and- and-

“Tony?” Steve called from the other room. “You coming?”

He swallowed hard, willing his voice to sound normal. “Yeah. Yeah!” he said a little louder. He turned on his heel, pivoting hard. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Text

“The kid’s the expert, he’ll actually be running this tour, this time,” Tony said and it was actually surprising how much the kid had absorbed in the past couple of days. Steve held his hand through the entire tour and that was what Tony actually remembered of the night.

“Where are the pictures of you though?” he asked, looking seemingly everywhere for them.

“Didn’t fit the aesthetic, Cap,” he joked. “There’s a painting of us over the living room, wait, you’ll see-”

“You’re not smiling,” Steve observed when they finally got back to that room and he was looking at the painting over the fireplace.

“Well it was a formal painting so they actually didn’t want me smiling.”

“Can you picture Tony serious though?” Pete asked Steve.

“No.”

“It’s just one painting,” he protested, feeling put more on the spot than he’d anticipated. Steve looked at him and (unfortunately for Tony) really seemed to see him; he pulled Tony into a hug, kissing him on the cheek despite Tony’s grumblings. “You were so sweet looking,” Steve told him. “I just prefer you like this.”

“Old? Ripped?”

“Happy.”

And he bit his lip as the tour continued onward, wondering what his parents were thinking, hearing this; he hadn’t anticipated this feeling, like he was betraying them. He tried to tune back into the conversation at hand. Pete was explaining to Steve that Tony was teaching him how to play the piano; Steve was sitting beside the kid on the bench. He felt a hand brush against his and he jumped. There was no one standing beside him. He stuck his hands in his armpits, leaning against the wall. Was his mom beside him right now? Why was this happening anyways?

“How is your ankle?” Steve asked him as they walked up the stairs to finish the tour up.

“Better.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” Steve persisted. “You’re okay?”

“It still twinges a little sometimes, but I can walk on it fine- I’m alright, Captain-”

Steve stole a kiss at the top of the stairs, wrapping an arm around him which was good because sometimes Tony’s knees still went weak for this man and he didn’t particularly fancy falling down the stairs if it meant he was going to be stuck with his parents for all of the hereafter.

“I mean, the kid’s right there-” he gasped after Steve let him go.

“I’m fine,” Pete said cheerfully, walking on his hands. “Can we show him your old bedroom?”

“Sure.”

And his boys were off. Tony followed after them, feeling weirdly aloof and not knowing why. He loved Steve and had missed him; he didn’t understand what he was feeling in this moment, except that being surrounded by Steve and Pete’s love right now made him think about all the times he’d felt unloved as a child. The gulf between the two had never felt wider.

Steve had waited for him at the door of his room and he was giving Tony that knowing look- “I’m alright,” Tony insisted. “Weird mood, that’s all. It’s a little overwhelming?”

“I can’t imagine, Tones.”

He leaned into Steve’s touch, relishing his warmth. “I’m glad you’re here. Let’s keep going- you can poke around all you want, tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

Pete showed Steve the door they couldn’t open (Steve tried to push it open at Pete’s insistence and Tony’s okay, but found that he couldn’t which made them all think the door had really been reinforced), the different guestrooms, Tony’s parents’ room (he hadn’t really looked in here much in the past couple of days and the key was probably in here, truth be told, he was just avoiding it), and they stopped in the guestroom that Peggy had always stayed in. Tony didn’t know what his husband’s reaction would be to the room, but he just looked around carefully, flicked Tony a little smile, and said they could keep going.

“We’ll show him the lab tomorrow,” Tony said, snagging Pete by the hood of his sweatshirt. “I want to play games now.”

“Kay- I’ll set up in the living room. Meet you down there-”

Tony started to follow Pete, but Steve seized him and he stilled; wrapping his arms around Tony’s chest, Steve kissed the back of his neck. “I love you,” the other man whispered. “Really, Tony.”

“I love you,” he said hoarsely. “Come on, the kid’s waiting-”

Pete somehow conned them into playing Monopoly; he and Pete duked it out for the transportation cards while Steve shamelessly helped both of them, loaning them money, losing his shirt in the process (metaphorically speaking only, which was a shame)-

Steve stretched out after he’d officially run out of money, resting his head in Tony’s lap while the two remaining superheroes attempted to destroy each other. Tony wasn’t even completely sure that Steve was still awake as the game progressed, except that the Captain opened his beautiful blue eyes every once in a while to give him a faint grin.

“Who’s winning?” he asked lazily.

“Me,” they both said and Steve snickered, pressing his forehead to Tony’s stomach- giving him butterflies in the process-

“You cheat,” he said, when Pete won at last, but Pete didn’t seem too fooled by it.

“Uh huh,” he agreed.

“It’s time for bed. Steve, wake up.”

“I’m awake, Tones,” Steve said, climbing rather gracefully (unfair) to his feet and following Pete to the stairs. Tony had been trying to pack up the game but he gave it up as a bad cause. “I’ll finish packing that in the morning,” he said, following them up. He’d rather be with his family.

“Where are we sleeping?” Steve asked. “I forget.”

“I could go back to my original room,” Pete started to say, but Tony just snagged him around the middle, wrestling him in and if he hadn’t wanted to be there, Pete wouldn’t be there. “I want you with us. Steve wants you with us. Right, Steve?”

Steve pecked Pete on the forehead, heading for the bathroom. “I only came here for my Peter snuggles,” he called.

“He might actually mean that,” Tony told the teenager who was smiling faintly. Peter shook his head.

“You didn’t really come cause I had a nightmare last night, did you?” Pete asked, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. Tony got undressed, rooting around the room for his pajama bottoms; their room was starting to look like something of a nightmare. He was sure that Steve was horrified by the chaos of the room.

Steve spit toothpaste into the sink, glancing up at Peter. Tony could just see him through the space under Pete’s arm. “Tony didn’t really tell me what the nightmare was about, bear.”

Pete fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. “I dreamt I was back in that place. With her.”

Steve hummed. Swallowing a handful of water, he swished it around his mouth and he spit this out too. Coming over to where Pete stood, he wordlessly wrapped him in a hug. “Sorry,” Pete mumbled.

“None of that, Pete,” he called from his spot on the bed.

“Being sad?”

He balled up his socks and tossed them at the teenager, hitting him in the ear. “Apologizing when you did nothing wrong.”

Steve was rubbing a circle into Peter’s back. “Here, I’m done with the bathroom. Get changed, come to bed. We’re sticking you in the middle.”

“Okay…”

Steve sat down next to Tony at the end of the bed. He looked over at Tony and that was all it really took to make Tony feel like his insides were melting away. “Hey, baby,” the captain said softly.

“Captain, my captain.”

“What about you? Does being here make you sad?”

He wanted to deny it, especially here, especially when they were probably being observed, but this was Steve and he’d promised Steve he would try to be honest about how he was feeling when he could. “A little,” he admitted and Steve wrapped his arms around Tony. Tony leaned into the hold, burying his face in the crook of the soldier’s neck. “It reminds me of how things were. I loved my parents and it has always felt like I was letting them down or betraying them, complaining about how things were. But being here… I was never really what they wanted, I think.”

“Tony, you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met.”

He snorted. “That’s not what you said when we first met.”

“I was determined to dislike you,” Steve agreed. “Seems silly now. But I had this image of who you should be. Was that what they did to you? Was that why you were so mad at me when we first met?”

They heard the shower turn off again. Tony straightened up, stretching his back. He thought about what Steve was asking. “I was mad at you because my dad always held me to the Captain America standard,” he said contemplatively. He glanced sideways. “Even you don’t hold up well to that standard.”

Steve huffed, shaking his head with a smile.

“My family just needed me to be a certain way. It wasn’t always what they said… you just knew what they needed from you. I tried really hard to be that person when I was a little kid. Couldn’t do it. I tried really hard not to be that person as a teenager. Then suddenly it was all over.” Steve hummed.

Pete poked his head around the bathroom door. “Are you decent?”

“Of course we’re decent,” Tony scoffed. He got up. “Your hair is still sopping wet. Come here-”

Grabbing Pete’s towel, he followed the teenager into the bathroom, scrubbing at his hair with the towel. Pete laughed and protested, but he allowed it, drifting closer, and then there was Steve, crowding them- “his hair’s too thick, you’ll be drying at it all night like that. Use the dryer-”

And Tony loved his little family just like this.

Chapter Text

Pete really must need their affection, Tony decided as he brushed his teeth that night. He knew that Pete found their collective coddling a little humiliating when they’d gotten him back, but none of the Avengers- particularly him and his husband- had been able to help themselves. Pete had always been the baby of the group, the kid they all shared.

To have him agree, though, to share the bed with him and Steve…? He was surprised how little convincing it took.

He wondered if his father would think he was raising him soft. Didn’t really matter. Tony had decided long ago that he didn’t want to be like his father.

They’d left the light on in the room for him and he snorted as he took them in. They’d curled on their sides, Pete plastered under Steve’s chin. Getting in, he patted Pete on the side. “Care to spoon?”

“Yes, I’m all cold on that side,” Pete complained sleepily. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, your highness.”

He crawled in close, wrapping an arm around Pete’s chest and pulling him away from Steve- the soldier huffed but he was amused- “Mm, hi, baby,” Tony whispered, kissing Pete on the ear. “I love you. I love you.”

“Tony…”

“Now you’re protected on all sides,” he murmured. “Won’t let anything happen to you. Right, Steve?”

“That’s right. You’re safe, pal.”

Pete just sighed, a soft noise slipping past his lips; he burrowed deeper under the covers, already a little asleep apparently. He clung to Tony’s hand and Tony let him, intertwining their fingers. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see his husband gazing over at him. Steve smiled, blew him a kiss, and Tony meant to say, ‘you’re sickening,’ but instead he said, “I’m so glad you’re here, Captain.”

“Should go away more often,” Steve said lazily, one thumb tracing circles on Pete’s cheek. “Make you miss me more.”

“Don’t you dare-”

And Steve had to stifle a laugh. Moving closer, he tucked Pete back into that space under his chin. He threw an arm over both of them, holding onto Tony’s shoulder. “He’s asleep.”

“Went out quick.”

“Did you talk to him about your plan?”

“A little.”

“And-?”

He closed his eyes. “Needs to think about it. Told him it’s okay.” Mentally he said, ‘I wouldn’t want me for a dad either.’

Steve’s fingers tapped his cheek. Probably knew what Tony was thinking. Always had, apparently. “Not personal,” the soldier insisted. “I know he loves you. You know he loves you. It’s just a change.”

He hummed. He could feel Pete’s heart beating just under his fingers. “I never thought I’d have a baby. A kid,” he amended.

“You’re a wonderful father.”

He scoffed at this, looking at his husband. Steve had propped himself up on his elbow, staring challengingly at him. “I’d like to be,” he allowed. “You don’t think I’m too damaged?”

“People aren’t damaged. They get hurt. There’s a difference.”

Making an effort not to dislodge Pete, he propped himself up enough to lean over the teenager, Steve meeting him more than halfway to kiss him. “You’ve made me a better person.”

“Doubt it.”

“Wow-”

But he laid down beside Pete, relishing in the warmth that came off of him, a reminder that Pete was alive and well, was there in his arms. Settling in, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t even sure when he fell asleep-

“Tony.”

“Hm?”

“Tony, wake up,” Pete whispered. “Just a little, please.”

He lifted his head. “Petey?”

Somewhere in the night, the kid had gotten absolutely sandwiched between him and his husband. Steve was still out- surprisingly enough- “I have to pee,” Pete mumbled. “I’m trapped.”

“Ah.” He struggled out, letting Pete pass him. As soon as the teen was out of the bed, he was tumbling back down into the space he’d left; Steve woke up just enough to see it was him and he curled around Tony. Tony had missed this. “Yee…”

Pete was gone when he woke up next. He brushed his hand down Steve’s back, coming to very slowly. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice rough.

“I can hear him downstairs. You awake now?”

“Sort of…”

“That’s good enough. I’ll go see what he’s doing.” Steve kissed him on the nose. “Bye, honey.”

“I’ll be down soon,” he called without conviction.

“Uh huh.”

Tony rolled onto his back, basking in the warmth (and freedom) of the bed all to himself. He curled his toes, sighing. He should get up; his two favorite people were downstairs, after all- but it was nice here as well, Steve’s cologne already permeating the sheets, the combined heat of two enhanced individuals making him feel like he’d just pulled the blanket from the dryer.

He wondered how long Pete had been up- hadn’t thought to look at the clock before. Unlike his two family members, he wasn’t enhanced. In this moment, he felt caught between who he had been and who he was- he could almost pretend that he was eight years old again, his parents somewhere downstairs, and he could blink, and forty years had passed. His husband and his son were waiting for him.

Strange sensations…

Vaguely, he registered that the light on the opposite wall was moving. He traced it back to its origin- the window beside the bed. Something- someone?- was moving the curtain, making it flutter. He licked his lips, feeling nervous, feeling elated. “Who?” he asked.

Something dropped onto the bed and reaching out his hand, he closed his fingers around it. His watch… Jarvis had given him this for his sixteenth birthday. “Jarvis?” he asked.

There was no answer.

But Tony wasn’t afraid of Jarvis; Jarvis had been warm and kind, loving, like a second parent, like a better parent. Jarvis was the father he was trying to be to Peter. “Alright,” he said, putting the watch on. “I’ll get up.”

Chapter Text

Steve and Pete had gotten into something, he knew, but what that was exactly, he couldn’t be sure.

“Hey,” he said, falling practically into Steve, pressing his forehead against the captain’s back as if he could fuse them together.

“Hey, baby, you’re finally up.”

“It hasn’t been that long…”

“Kind of was,” Steve said, but he was grinning at Tony. “It’s gloomy out.”

He hummed, pushing away from Steve, grabbing at Peter and pulling him into an impromptu hug. He glanced out the window over the sink; Steve was right- it was gross looking outside. He hoped the whole fall wasn’t going to be like this.

“Steve and I thought we should split up this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” He yawned.

“Yeah- stop that, you’re going to make me-” Pete yawned. “Look what you did. Anyways- Steve and I thought we’d take a look around Peggy’s room and you could do your parents’ room cause we thought you’d prefer to be alone- what do you think?”

His heart clenched at the thought of being near his parents’ stuff. Even being in their house, even being haunted by their ghosts, these things didn’t completely make his parents and their deaths real to him, but this- “Yeah, that’s probably a good plan,” he said.

Still, when it came time to split up, he couldn’t help feeling a little mad- he wanted to spend time with his husband and his teenager, not look for keys or whatever else they might find- not when his parents had never had time for him when they’d been alive. He could hear the two enhanced individuals across the hall- Steve had put on David Bowie and they were singing along to it; Tony couldn’t find it within himself to make a sound.

Sitting on the edge of the bed- his mother’s side- he toed off his shoes. They had to be watching him, he knew. Sighing, he laid down on the bed. He turned his head into her pillow- nothing. It didn’t smell like anything, really. He realized with a gut wrenching sense of loss that he didn’t know what she had smelled like, what her shampoo was, if she’d been wearing perfume the last time they’d talked. They hadn’t been huggers.

He wished he’d hugged her that last time.

He heard the song switch over to Sweet Caroline and he huffed; the others were having fun and here he was, feeling mopey. He sat up. Would his parents want him searching through their personal effects? Absolutely not. Were they watching him right now? Likely.

Damn.

“You could just tell me why you’re doing this and I’d stop looking through your shit,” he said aloud. “I don’t need to know what’s in that room.”

No answer.

“Well, you can’t be mad at me,” he commented. Getting on his knees, he laid down on the ground, looking under the bed first. He used his phone’s camera to light up the space- nothing there. Fair enough. He cast his eyes on the bedside tables and decided he really didn’t want to start there. It was too early in the morning to find his parents’ sex toys or whatever else they were hiding there.

Pushing to his feet, he headed for his mom’s bureau again. So many drawers. He opened the top drawer again, taking the jewelry boxes out one by one and systematically going through them this time. Rings. Necklaces. Bracelets, pendants, pins- Christ- “And they say I’m flamboyant,” he called.

He opened tubes of lipstick one by one, more for the opportunity to see the colors, feel the traces of memories, than because he thought something was actually hidden there.

He opened the next drawer and found a mixture of underwear, bras and panties; he paused, looking up at the ceiling and mentally gathering himself. “It’s just underwear,” he grumbled under his breath, looking under the articles and finding nothing. He snapped the drawer shut and opened the next. Blouses. “Pete wants to know what’s in the room. He’s curious. Always has been. I guess I’m curious too. But things shift when you get older. If you want your secrets, then fine. I wasn’t planning on ever coming back here. Really, I think this is your fault-”

He stopped his mini rant, a sound behind him catching his attention. A drawer had drifted open, the top drawer in his mom’s bedside table. “Are you trying to help me or is this a distraction from pawing through your slacks?” he asked rhetorically.

No answer again. “Why do you show yourselves sometimes and not others?” he asked, abandoning the drawers to look in the one that someone- his mom?- had opened for him.

There was an album on the top and he pulled this out.

It was a photo album, full of pictures of babies that he didn’t recognize at first until he saw his mom’s careful lettering at the bottom of the pages. These were his older siblings- the ones that had survived pregnancy- His mom had preserved their pictures here, probably the only pictures there were of them; he’d never known there were photographs. They’d never spoken about these past babies.

He felt a weird mixture of grief and anger; they’d kept so much from him. “Alright.” He went to close the book; it felt like too much to see the whole string of children that had come before him. Money hadn’t bought health. Was this a message to him? He was practically the same age they’d been when they’d started trying to have children and here’s how it had gone-

The book flipped open rather forcefully, the pages turning until it was halfway open and here was a picture he recognized at last- himself. “You want me to keep looking?” The page turned slowly now, more pictures of himself, lots of pictures of himself when he’d been a baby, some that had been in the albums below, some that hadn’t.

She’d taken prints of his feet when he’d been born, so small really, and even clipped a lock of his hair, noting that this had come from his first haircut- some eight months after he’d been born- He had to wince at the bearskin rug photo, a classic of its time but he’d kill before he allowed Steve to see him like this-

She’d memorialized his first year in this book. He sat there, not understanding how she could have so lovingly preserved all these mementos and yet, when he remembered his childhood, he remembered mostly the loneliness, how disconnected and unwanted he’d felt.

He shoved the book under her pillow when someone knocked at the door- Steve. “You okay, honey?” the captain asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Studiously searching, Cap,” he said and his voice sounded normal. “Are you guys done?”

“There wasn’t much in the room,” Steve said, rather regretfully.

“Peggy only came to visit about once a year. I don’t think she left a lot behind,” he said gently. Steve hummed. Pushing into the room, he sat next to Tony, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. “You look kind of sad.”

And Tony’s eyes blurred traitorously. “I don’t always like being here,” he mumbled, leaning against Steve’s shoulder.

“You could leave. You don’t have to be here,” Steve pointed out.

He nodded against the shoulder. “I kind of want to figure out what’s going on though,” he said softly.

“Makes sense.” Steve paused. “Need more time?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Okay. Pete and I were going to take a walk. Is that okay or do you want us to stay…?”

He sat up, feeling more like himself. “Nah. I’ll be fine here, Steve. Take some pictures of him, for me? He says I’m ridiculous. I think I’ve taken my quota.”

“You are ridiculous,” Steve said, but he kissed Tony, surging forward before Tony had the chance to say that maybe it was improper to make out on his parents’ bed, that they were probably watching them. Steve kissed Tony stupid, blissfully stupid, and he liked it. Blinking at the captain, he had to grin. “Get out of here,” he said.

“Call me if you need me. I’ll come running.”

“Sir, yes, sir-”

“Ridiculous,” Steve echoed, laughing. Standing, he kissed Tony on the top of his head. “I love you,” he said, and he had no business sounding so fond.

“Take at least one of the resident ghosts with you,” he shouted after the man.

Reinvigorated, he got to his feet, looking into the drawer. There were other things there and he took them out one by one, carefully piling them on the bed. No sex toys in either side of the bed- thank god- but momentos of trips they’d taken, letters from Peggy that he put aside (Steve would love these), a wedding album on his mom’s side, engineering notebooks on his father’s side.

His father’s side of the room was surprisingly messy under the tidy facade, the shirts piled up and looking distinctly ruffled, like he’d just rifled through them this morning, socks unmatched in the top drawer. He remembered his father chastising him for being sloppy; he felt a pang of anger, there and gone. Funny, how you could feel so much. His father felt more real as a person, these past few days, than he ever had when Tony had been growing up.

He looked in their closet without a lot of hope. A typewriter there and a sewing machine on the top shelf, dresses and suits, boxes of shoes that he had to open one by one, feeling around inside the shoes, looking for false heels cause why not at this point-? He wanted to forgive his parents, felt like he understood them more now (time did really bring perspective), but felt like for the first time in his whole life, he was also beginning to grieve for himself, for a lonely childhood, for parents who had been caught up in their own misery-

There was nothing in here. Perhaps there had never been.

Chapter Text

He’d loved having Peter with him for the past week and especially the addition of his husband this past day, but there was something to being in his parents’ house without (relatively without, of course) supervision which was oddly freeing. Giving up on his parents’ bedroom, he wandered down the stairs and wondered what to do with himself next.

He texted their family chat- ‘Where are my boys?’ and considered his options while he was waiting. He felt like he almost had too much freedom, unexpectedly, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

Two messages in rapid response- one from Steve, one from Pete- ‘Dude, we’ll see you in three days,’ followed by ‘we might have gone too far. We just turned around. Here’s your pictures though <3-’ And Steve sent along a dozen candids of Pete as well as several selfies of the two of them which Tony scrolled through, sitting at the bottom of the steps.

‘Why isn’t he wearing a jacket?’ he typed back to Steve.

An incoming call. From Peter. “Dude, you’re obnoxious,” the kid informed him, but he was trying not to laugh, Tony could tell. He wandered towards the library, letting his feet guide him. “Pete, you don’t thermoregulate,” he said.

“I’m only a little cold.”

“You’re cold?” he heard Steve ask in the background. “Peter Parker-”

“See what I mean?” he asked, looking out the window. A leaf fell to the ground in front of him as he watched.

“Who would have thought you’d be a helicopter parent?” Peter asked. “Now Steve’s giving me his flannel- isn’t he going to be cold? Aren’t you going to be cold-?”

“These are the sacrifices you make for your kid,” he said without thinking. “I’ll heat up some cider when you come back. Did you have fun?”

“It’s very pretty out here.”

“Yeah, it always was.” He used to go on walks in those woods with Ana and Jarvis. When he was a teenager, he’d hide beers in his sleeves, drink in the clearing just beyond the sightline of the house. He didn’t tell Pete either of those things. “How long do you think it will take you to come back? I’ll make something decent for lunch.”

“We walked for like an hour and a half before we turned around. We just turned around.”

“You’re going to be hungry when you get home,” he said, running his fingers over the spines of the books. “No paranormal activity?”

“We think that someone did follow us after all,” Pete said, lowering his voice now, although apparently it was pointless. “Just because my senses keep pinging. But Steve’s with me. So I feel safe,” he hastened to say. “It doesn’t feel like danger anyways, Tony, it just feels- odd-”

“Alright,” he said. “Let Steve know if that sensation changes.”

“I will.”

“I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”

“Okay. I love you, Tony- you’re a good dad, you know?” Pete hung up before he could respond. Tony pulled the phone away, wondering if he’d heard right.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Someone trying to get his attention? He didn’t understand how things were changing, just felt that they were changing. Turning on his heel, he looked behind him. Nobody in sight but there was the typewriter and suddenly he remembered that someone, probably his mom, had left a message there days and days ago, and he’d never looked.

‘What happened to your baby?’

He had to think about that. His mom had typed this somewhere at the beginning of the weekend and he’d just talked to Pete about what had happened to him in March, if he was remembering right… He didn’t like talking about this. He’d been to blame for it. And he certainly didn’t want to tell his mom about it.

Pulling out the chair, he rested his fingers meditatively on the keys, hoping that would help him.

‘He was kidnapped,’ he typed. ‘On his way home from school. Someone wanted to hurt me. They tried to hurt him.’ A pause. ‘We got him back.’ His stomach dropped down. He wanted to erase the words, take them back, but it was a typewriter, he couldn’t-

He dropped down a line and tried again. ‘People think he’s my son, that I keep it a secret cause-’ Scratch that. What was he doing? ‘Peter is my son, but he’s not biologically mine. I tried to protect him by keeping him at arm’s length. Couldn’t do it. I loved him from the first moment we met. He’s just like that. Everyone thinks he’s the Stark heir. He’s-’

He had to walk away from the typewriter. It was too much. He took off for the kitchen, the opposite corner of the house, trying to think of what to make for them. Pete’s favorite chicken dish. He’d bought the stuff specifically for it.

In the kitchen, he found his father’s note though. He tried to think- had Pete seen this, this morning? His father had added a message too- ‘Your mom is really attached already.’

Why were they doing this?

He didn’t know what to say in return to either of these things. Instead of addressing his father’s message, the things his own message on the typewriter had brought up, he wrote, ‘were you hoping to get my attention? Is that why all the signals all of a sudden?’

Tossing the pencil down, he began to pull ingredients out of the fridge- butter and the chicken breasts, onions and garlic- He heated the cast iron skillet, a solid weight in his hands. He still marveled at Ana hefting this thing easily, the way she’d danced around the kitchen, the feeling he’d had watching her-

He cooked the chicken on both sides, putting it aside to dice up afterwards. It was better to focus on cooking, cooking was something he could do. He glazed the bottom of the pan with chicken broth and listened for the snap, the bubbling. He added ingredients one at a time, sun dried tomatoes, peppers, the garlic and onion together…

“Yes, I’m still using your recipes,” he said aloud. “So you like Pete,” he added, feeling insane. What if none of them were even there and he really was talking to himself? Still, he’d never get this chance again. “Everyone likes Pete. He’s sweet. Really gentle. Volunteers at an animal shelter. Fights crime- I know that’s not what you would have wanted, but it actually runs in the family now. And he’s good at it. He’s really smart. Got some good friends. He’s everything I wanted to be.”

Someone tugged the bowl of cheese he was holding out of his hand. He let them, watching the bowl bob absurdly in the air. Whoever it was, they sprinkled the cheese over the sauce exactly when he’d meant to do so. “Well at least I’m not talking to myself,” he said. He watched a sauce pan float over to the sink where it began to fill with water. “I’m cooking the whole box of pasta; they eat a lot. I’ll… I’ll work on the bread.”

He sliced the loaf of Italian bread, put it in the oven to toast, looked at the pasta barely boiling and checked his watch. Still fifteen minutes before they were due to come back. Suddenly he was itching to move. He pushed out of the kitchen, heading back to the library.

She’d left another message alright. ‘We always worried something would happen to you for the same reason. It wasn’t your fault.’

He pulled the paper out of the typewriter, folding it up and jamming it in his pockets.

‘Relax,’ he told himself. ‘You can’t afford to go to pieces here- it’s not allowed-’

He took a deep break in and headed back for the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Steve texted him ten minutes later- ‘We’re almost back’- so Tony put the cider on the stove to heat and began to move everything over to the dining room which at least had started to feel much cozier with his family in it.

He was setting out plates when Pete found him, hugging him from behind and pressing a very cold nose into his neck, making him squawk in protest- “Oh god, you’re wretched-”

“You made my favorite,” Pete said instead, ducking into his arms for a proper hug when he turned. “With extra tomatoes?”

“With extra tomatoes,” he allowed. “I’ll start ladling the cider into mugs. You move them for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Capsicle, you made it.” He was beyond relieved to be surrounded by his family again, the family he really felt he belonged to. “Are you cold?”

“Yes, I’ll need you to warm me up-”

“Shh, shh-”

“At least kiss me?”

And Tony had never been able to say no to a request like that. He surged into Steve’s space, flinging his arms around the captain’s neck and Steve met him halfway, was his match in desire, in warmth; Tony heard Pete scoff as he went past but he didn’t care and when Pete came back in again for the next round of stuff and found them still there, he squeezed his way in between them, seeming to relish in their warmth. Steve laughed, clinging to Pete’s shoulders and Tony leaned against both of them, trapping Peter between them. “What, too gross for your young eyes?” he asked and all the heaviness of the morning fell away from them.

“I’m just trying to get warm.”

“Just trying to get warm…” Tony rolled the sleeves up on Steve’s, turned Pete’s, flannel shirt. “What were you thinking, going out there without a jacket? It’s practically the end of September.”

“Wasn’t thinking,” Pete admitted freely.

He pushed Pete towards the dining room, grabbing the last of the food. “Well, give it a little more thought in the future, Pete. I worry about you.”

“I know you do, but really, I’m alright.”

“Means nothing, I’m going to always worry about you-”

“Alright,” Pete agreed, completely throwing Tony off (he’d been prepared to belabor the point). “Tony, when you adopt me, we’ve decided that Steve will be my papa. But I’ll probably mostly call him Steve.”

“Wait, why does he get to be your papa, when I-”

Steve nudged his knee with his foot under the table. “When you adopt Pete,” he repeated slowly, like Tony was stupid (and maybe he was), “I get to be papa because you,” he pointed at Tony with his fork, “will be his dad.”

“But I’ll probably call you Tony when we’re in public cause I’m in high school and-”

“Wait,” he said, the conversation finally catching up to him. “Wait-”

Pete was hunting for his sundried tomatoes, eating them with such obvious relish that Tony speared a couple that were on his plate and slid them wordlessly over to the kid. “We were talking about it on our walk and that’s why we didn’t realize how long we’d been walking, but yeah, if you’re still for it-”

“Of course I’m for it,” he said, blinking at him. Pete had managed to surprise him after all, had turned his whole day around. “Why’d you change your mind?”

Pete gave him a semi-furtive look. “I was never against it, Tony.”

“Okay,” he croaked. He wasn’t going to push it, he wasn’t-

“Aw, Tony, spending time in your old house is kind of illuminating, you know?” Pete chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread. “It’s kind of- and you should be different, but you’re better than that, right? And I know you love me. I always have. Just- I’d like it to be official now.”

And Tony got on his knees, kneeling beside Pete so that his forehead was resting against his rib cage. “Oh, Pete.”

“Oh god, I told you he’d take it like this-” But Pete was touching his hair, running fingers through the strands. “Come on and eat, Tony, there’s plenty of time for all of this.”

“You’re going to be my baby.”

“I’m technically well into being a teenager- practically an adult- so…”

“I’ve always wanted you,” Tony said hoarsely. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, Pete.” The teen blushed at this. Tony hadn’t meant to embarrass him.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Pete complained. “If I give you a hug, will you leave me to my lunch?”

“Temporarily,” he agreed, climbing to his feet. He practically knocked Pete off his chair, clutching at him. “I love you so much, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you. Sit!”

Steve was grinning dopily at them. “I cried when he told me,” he said conversationally. Pete nodded, looking long suffering. “Pete’s had to put up with a lot this morning.”

“It’s a lot of emoting for people like us,” he said. He got back into his seat; he’d forgotten about eating, about feeling upset this morning. “I could get the suits out this afternoon.”

Pete perked up. “Could we fly?”

“We should fly.”

And there was something rather indescribable about being in the suit again, like leaving all of his worries on the ground. He didn’t care what his parents thought of him, could let go of the disappointments he’d grown up with, didn’t need to be anywhere else in fact, cause when the suit formed around him, he found himself lighter than before, more like himself. “Want to fly, kid?” he asked through the comm and Pete was already bouncing on his feet, jogging in place and waiting for him.

They left Steve on the ground, but he didn’t seem to mind. Tony had one look at him, standing there, broad shouldered and grinning, and then he was seizing the kid around the waist and they were climbing up, up, and up.

He climbed up fifty feet, letting the mask snap open. “You got a good grip?” he yelled.

“I’m sticking to you like glue,” Pete promised, laughing.

“Good, baby. I’ve got you. Dad’s got you.”

And he was happy to just hang there in the air, letting the sun hit them, warming them, the wind blowing around them; they couldn’t stay up here forever, not with Pete’s lack of thermoregulation, but they could stay up here for a while and the feeling would last much longer, the feeling that he had his whole world in his arms.

“I’ve needed you,” he said, getting a better grip on the kid.

“I need you too,” Pete agreed.

Chapter Text

They found themselves back in his father’s study that evening, but they’d given up looking for anything at this point and rather were finding ways to have fun in the old house. Tony thought this was a much better use of their time, to be honest.

Pete had played two rounds of pool with them, switching who he was partnered with; now he was sleeping in Tony’s dad’s old armchair, Tony’s sweater wrapped around him for warmth.

“He had a lot of fun today.”

“He loves flying.”

“He loves you.”

Tony considered this. “Maybe. I’m glad you’re here. Everything’s more fun with you.”

Steve started pulling balls from the pockets, rolling them over to where Tony was setting up the triangle. “I missed you,” he said honestly. “I don’t think we’re meant to spend this much time apart.”

“What, five days?” Tony joked. But he liked that Steve wanted him around. Needed him. “You start us off this round, Captain.”

“What do you think they think of him?” Steve asked a few minutes later, looking up at Pete as he lined up his shot. He sent an orange solid spinning into the corner pocket beside him, a tidy shot.

“I don’t have to wonder, they’ve been telling me,” Tony murmured.

Steve scratched his next shot, looking over at him. “What do you mean?”

He took the two pieces of paper he’d left folded in his back pocket all day, handing these over to Steve. Steve read one and then the other, scanning them quickly and then going back to reread them. “Tony…”

“I know.”

“Is this hard for you?” Steve whispered. “Being back here?”

Tony knocked three balls into their various pockets before he answered. Grabbing the chalk he reapplied. “A little,” he allowed. “I’m defensive. Trying not to be. I don’t really know what to expect. I don’t understand why they’re doing this now.”

“There’s never been activity like this before?”

“Nothing our scanners picked up on. Course, I only put the technology into the different Stark properties about ten years ago. After I met you.” ‘Because I met you,’ he thought. Some of the missions Cap and Natasha had run in those early years had revealed vulnerabilities he didn’t appreciate. “But, nothing in the past ten years, no.”

“How’d they know you’d respond, do you think?”

He glanced at the sensor he’d installed in the corner of the room. “Those were put in all the rooms. The server’s up in the attic. Put them in remotely with one of the lesser bots,” he said baldly. “If they’ve just been hanging around this place, Dad probably saw the installation. Might have guessed what they did. I don’t know. It’s definitely a question that would be nice to have an answer to. But that might be asking too much.”

“So they like Pete,” Steve said next.

“Everyone loves Pete.”

“Nobody more than you,” the captain offered, taking the pool cue from him. “And they say Pete’s a lot like you… which is true, by the way.”

“I don’t know if I agree with that-”

“So they’re saying they love you too, Tony.”

His back itched. These were the things that he was uncomfortable with, even after all this time. “That would be a big change from how I remember things.”

“They loved you when you were a kid too. I know they did.”

Tony felt unexpectedly angry at that, and also, was angry at himself for being angry. “What makes you think that?” he asked, not getting all of the emotion out of his voice apparently, because Pete stirred in his sleep and Steve looked up at him.

Steve put his hands up, approaching him like he was a wounded animal. “Because you’re impossible not to love,” he said.

“Don’t-”

“I mean it. You know I do. I don’t mean to discount what you felt, baby. I know some of what happened to you. I’d like to know more. If you ever want to tell me. But I know that they must have loved you. And if they didn’t-? That was their loss.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. “You know I’m not really mad.”

“I know.”

“I love you. I don’t deserve you.”

“I love you. You earned that.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. “I’ll be glad to go home,” he said abruptly. “I don’t know. I do miss my parents and this is the closest I’ve been to them since they died- and they’re paying a lot more attention to me now- but it’s like,” he licked his lips, “they expect something of me still and I still don’t know what that is. When I was a kid, I always knew what they wanted. That was part of being in this house. You were supposed to anticipate. I feel like I’m failing, this time around. Like I got out of practice? I don’t know what they want.”

He looked up. Steve was watching him, that look in his eyes, the one he got sometimes when he didn’t think Tony was looking back at him. They met gazes and Steve offered him a smile. “Do you know what I want from you?” the soldier intoned.

“Probably a kiss. Something filthier,” he joked lightly.

“I do want a kiss,” Steve said and there was the mischief Tony so loved. “And a hug because I love your hugs. And I want you to be happy. That’s what I mainly want. Why don’t we go to bed, Tones? Pete’s knackered. So am I.”

“We’re not done, there’s still half the balls on the table-” He was swaying on his feet. Despite himself, Tony was tired too.

“Oh-” Steve lined up shot after shot, putting all the balls away.

“Show off,” he mumbled, but he gave the man a crooked smile.

“Can’t help myself, Tones.” Steve was heading for Pete.

“Are you going to wake him? I can carry him,” Tony called.

“Don’t be crazy, I’ll carry him myself. Hey, baby-” Steve scooped Pete up like he was a toddler not a teenager. “You know, if you’re a dad, then I’m a dad,” he said, following Tony out.

“Like that, do you?”

“Yes,” Steve said simply, pressing a kiss to Pete’s forehead. “I never thought I’d have a kid.”

“Me either.” He followed Steve up the stairs.

They padded down the hall to their room (Steve had cleaned up in here at some point, when had he done that?) and Tony had been planning on going out to turn out all the lights after they got Pete settled, but as they crossed the threshold into their room, he saw the lights downstairs going out, one by one. He pulled down the blankets instead.

“He’s still dressed. What should we-?”

“Stand him up a little, I’ll just get him out of his jeans- Everything else he can sleep in.”

He still wasn’t used to this kind of thing, so very paternal; Steve stood Pete up as directed and the kid’s head lolled a little bit which Tony did his best not to laugh at. “He’s still too skinny,” he complained. The jeans were loose even around the waist which did make it easier to undo the button and zipper. “Lift-” He dumped the jeans on the bottom of the bed (he’d go through the pockets afterwards) and he scooted around the end of the bed so that he could help situate the kid in the middle.

“He is very light,” Steve acknowledged.

“See, I told you.”

“But I don’t think he’s unhealthy,” Steve said, untwisting the kid’s shirt and straightening him out. They pulled the blankets up and over him. “You’re on my side.”

“Temporarily, hold your horses-”

Steve yawned. “Going to take a leak.”

“Fine.”

He went through the kid’s pockets, pulling out his phone and the arc reactor, a rock (seriously, Pete?), and the other detritus of teenage life, putting them on the bedside table next to his own stuff. The jeans, he rolled up and tossed into the hamper. He’d changed clothes and climbed in beside Pete by the time his husband came out.

“Night, Pete,” Steve said, leaning heavily on Tony to kiss Pete on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

“You’re crushing me,” Tony hissed.

“Thought that’s how you wanted to go-”

And Tony cackled loudly at that, waking poor Pete up- they both shushed him, apologizing- and Pete wasn’t really awake apparently because he sank back down, fingers curling around Tony’s sleeve- “Give me a hug, moron,” Tony chided the man and Steve was a little more careful this time, a little more quiet.

“I love you,” he said into Tony’s neck, and Tony had to smile. He squeezed Steve in response.

Chapter Text

Steve talked to him until he fell asleep himself, a low murmur aimed above Pete’s head, and it was amazing how, after all this time, there were still so many things to talk about, new things about each other that they wanted to learn, hopes that they had for Peter, worries…

Steve had grown up similar to Tony, dynamic wise at least, and as Steve started to slow down, he started to talk more about that, about his father, an alcoholic (Tony had always wondered if his own former substance use had been triggering to the captain), about his mom, a nurse, she’d died from scarlet fever-

“Would you talk to them again if you could?” he asked into the darkness.

“I’ll be glad if I never see my father again,” came back, and Steve’s dad must have been pretty terrible because even Tony didn’t dislike his father that much. And Steve was so gentle, so kind and loving…

“You’re a better man than he was,” he said rather fiercely. “You’re the best man I know.”

And Steve was quiet. But, listening carefully, Tony realized the captain had drifted off to sleep.

Tony rolled onto his back thinking about it all. It had felt better, this afternoon, focusing on his little family, burning off some of his stress. Neither him nor Pete were in their element, this far out in the countryside, without buildings, without missions, but it had been nice in its own way, different, and he’d chided Pete for not having a backup plan for trees-

He felt rather floaty. In three days, they’d head for home. He didn’t feel like he had any more answers than he had at the start of this all; if anything, he felt like he had more questions…

He closed his eyes.

Tony was never going to be the first one to wake up, apparently.

He came to the next morning to an empty bed and a note stuck under a coffee mug- ‘gone for a run in the woods. We’ll be back. Love you, Steve.’ He sipped the coffee thoughtfully- still warm, well, warmish and that was good enough-

He inhaled. The morning air was cool, the house quiet around him. Another chance to explore on his own then. He dug one of Steve’s henleys out, pulling it over his own shirt and stepped into his slippers. Running a hand through his hair, he did his best to make it lie flat.

He stood in front of the bedroom door, looking in both directions. To his left, the locked door and around the bend, his old bedroom. To the right, his parents room… and the door to the attic that was yawning open... “Alright,” he said resignedly. “Is this where you want me?”

Sconces lit up briefly as he passed them and he climbed up the stairs to the attic where the air hung still and oppressed. There was a tapping noise and he looked to his right. The glass he’d left there so many years ago, gin residue long since dried and evaporated on it, was tapping gently on the desk which was very much his father’s way of grabbing his attention. “Yeah, I broke into your gin,” he said offhandedly.

The glass moved in a circular motion. “When?” he guessed. “Is that what-?” It tapped on the desk. “After you died,” he said, the words ashen in his mouth. “Because you died. I didn’t know what to do.” ‘You’d left me here alone,’ he wanted to say.

A pencil rolled across the desk and standing (seemingly by itself, but Tony knew better than that), it balanced precariously and then began to skate across the scrap paper he’d always kept in the corner for new ideas. ‘I know. I saw you.’

“You saw me,” he repeated slowly, his voice flat even to his own ears. He’d only lived in this house for a few more months after their deaths. The thought that they’d seen him there, falling apart- he’d never considered that. He felt a wave of shame pooling in his stomach and he put the coffee mug down; suddenly, he couldn’t drink anymore of it.

‘We’d never really looked at you before then. I’d never looked.’ His dad underlined the word ‘I’ three times. ‘Suddenly we had all the time in the world to see you and we couldn’t reach you.’

There was the sound of voices from downstairs, a happy kind of yelling- Tony jumped. They were back, his Steve, his Peter, but this was the first time his dad had ever…

“Tony, where you at?” Steve yelled from somewhere far away.

He backtracked to the door. “I’m up in the attic,” he yelled, his voice a violation of the silence that had felt so close just moments before. “I’ll be down in a minute- promise-”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what his father was expecting. His father hadn’t acted like this when he’d been alive and he had no reason to believe that suddenly his dad was going to change. “I…” He shook his head. “Listen, that wasn’t the best side of me. I’m not like that anymore. I lost control of myself. I know you think that’s bad. But…” Christ, he couldn’t even remember what he’d done those months. “I’m not the person I was, I’ve tried to be better. Listen, I should probably head down there. They’re going to come up and get me soon if I don’t.”

‘Will you come back again?’

“Up here?”

‘To the house. With your boy.’

“You want me to come back?” He felt dizzy.

There was quite the pause before the pencil moved again. ‘Only if you want to. Tony.’

He read that over. “You never called me Tony.” His voice sounded angry, even to him. He was shaking.

‘You liked it better though.’

“That didn’t matter before.”

‘It matters to me now.’

He felt rather sick. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve got to go.” And he was striding towards the door without another thought, knowing that they could follow him anywhere in this house but knowing that he couldn’t continue this conversation, not now, not when he wanted more than anything to be home, maybe even play with Steve’s dog, check in with Bruce. He wanted to talk to Natasha. He-

“Woah there,” Pete said as Tony rounded the corner, heading for the steps. “What’s up, Tony?”

“I’m hungry,” he said, forcing himself to smile. Pete didn’t look convinced and maybe that was because Tony had never felt less hungry. “How was your run? Did you beat him?”

Pete pivoted on the top of the stairs- Tony grabbed his hand, thinking of all the bad things that could happen in this world- and he led the way back down. “No, I didn’t beat him,” Pete said glumly. “I need to do more legwork at the gym.”

“You and me both, kid.”

Peter brightened. “That’s true. Let’s work on it together.”

“When we get home,” he agreed.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked as they headed for the kitchen. “Did something happen upstairs? Your face-”

“I’m alright,” he promised. “Not ready to talk about it. But I’m fine. Okay, Pete?”

“Okay. Tony.”

And because Pete looked worried, he pulled them both to a stop, dragging Pete closer to him. “Give me a hug. Your hugs always help. I love you.” Peter squeezed him, all up in his space now, and he rocked a little, humming under his breath. “Good boy. I’m not sad- really. Did you make breakfast?”

“Yes,” Pete said, his voice muffled.

“Good. I’m starving.” He felt more like himself.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

“Alright, what if… but no… I guess that doesn’t make sense…”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows at Steve. Steve huffed a laugh. He pressed a delicate spot on Tony’s foot, something that had been quite tense and he let out a little yelp. “Did that hurt?”

“No. Just wasn’t expecting it. Do it again-”

“Well, we never searched the butler’s pantry,” Pete said, sounding rather crestfallen. “Or the conservatory, I guess. The pool…”

He suppressed a snort. “I don’t think my parents routinely chucked the key into the pool. Maybe it’s just gone, Pete.”

“It’s got to be here. Don’t you want to know what’s in that room? It’s got to be the source, Tony…”

He was having a hard time moving past the feeling that had descended over him in the attic this morning. He shrugged noncommittally. Steve was watching him, he knew. Glancing up, he met his husband’s gaze. Steve looked worried, but the crease between his eyes smoothed out as they looked at each other. “The room seems to be at the center of this all,” he allowed. “But finding out what’s in it doesn’t change much.”

“I think they wanted you to find it though,” Peter said, scribbling over his map. “Otherwise, why would they signal you now?”

He had several answers to that, but he didn’t want Pete to think that his surliness was directed towards him. Steve caressed his heel and began to work up his leg, his fingers moving dexterously, squeezing the muscles, soothing them. “You’d think if they really wanted me to find out what’s in that room, they wouldn’t have made the key so hard to find,” he said finally.

“Well… the key was hidden- before they died,” Pete said awkwardly, stumbling over this last part. “So far we’ve only seen them really move pencils… and typewriter keys… maybe they can’t get to where it is…”

“Could be it, baby,” he said, though privately he thought that they could have just told him and Pete where the key was, if they’d really wanted him to know. “Maybe you should ask them where it is. They like you.”

Pete brightened. Tony had been half kidding, but the kid was already getting to his feet. “Do they? Why? I’m going to put more paper in the typewriter- where’d the other one go anyways?” And he was out of the living room before they could say anything else, jogging through the front hall and towards the library if Tony’s ears were hearing correctly.

Steve let go of his legs and he lowered them regretfully to the floor. The captain shifted closer, invading his space, not so subtly throwing an arm around his shoulders and making him laugh almost against his will. “What’s up?” he whispered into his ear.

“Talked to my dad this morning,” he said, just as quietly. They could hear Pete typing on the typewriter in the other room. “While you were on your run.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just-” He didn’t know why this bothered him so much, but it did. “He wants me to come back again. To visit. Like we’re-” He didn’t know how to end that sentence and so, didn’t. Steve hummed. Pressing his head into Tony’s, he dragged his beard across the side of the mechanic’s face, making Tony shiver with a certain amount of unprovoked pleasure.

“It’s okay to be mad.”

“I can’t be mad,” he said automatically. “It’s not allowed.”

“Okay,” Steve said, his voice patient, loving even. Tony would die for this man, if it came to it. Nobody had ever loved him so completely, without reservation. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s ear, breathing the words out, “but I wouldn’t be mad at you.”

And then Pete was back. “Nothing yet,” he said, not sounding daunted at all. “I thought maybe the two of you were being distracting in here.”

“Always,” Tony said, grinning up at him now. He reached for Pete, gesturing the teen forward. Peter rolled his eyes, but he slipped into the space in front of him and that was all he needed really- and some leverage- to pull the kid down. Pete landed with an undignified yelp but made himself comfortable. “Pete, will you be really disappointed if we don’t get into that room?” he asked.

Peter thought about it. “No,” he decided, surprising Tony a little. “I’ll be curious, but I just liked being with you this week. That’s what was really important to me.”

Tony didn’t have the words to express what was in his heart. His thumb traced a circle of Pete’s hip. Steve had been right. Pete was skinny, yes, but not unhealthy, and Tony was starting to see the differences in him; Pete looked different not because of what had happened to him but because he was getting older, because he was holding himself differently than before, and that wasn’t a bad thing. He gave Pete a tight squeeze. “You’re my favorite,” he said, letting the kid tumble out of his hold.

“His favorite,” Peter crowed at Steve, catching himself handily and dancing in front of the other man. Steve got up, grabbing at him, trying and failing to seize him; Tony got up too, watching them tussle with each other (Steve had gotten Pete at last and was now giving him what appeared to be a noogie). He happened to glance in the mirror on the far wall-

And his heart nearly stopped.

Behind his reflection was his parents, not transparent and insubstantial as they’d been the other day, when he and Pete had seen them on the porch, but solid and the same (the very same!) as they’d been, the last time he’d seen them alive.

His mother was crying, but she was beaming at him. Half turning on his heel, his heart hammering, he looked behind him. There was nothing there.

A thump brought his attention back to his wayward family members. Steve had managed to pull Pete to the ground, Pete’s arms bound under Steve’s arms. Pete was making a valiant effort to get free using his legs, but he was laughing ultimately too much to make much of an effort.

Tony felt… Tony felt caught between them all, his parents and his past, his boys and their future. Toeing at Steve, he felt rather than saw the captain freeze. “Going to get some air,” he said, making his voice light.

“You okay? Got caught up-”

“I was enjoying watching this debacle,” he assured the other man. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I would never!”

“Tony, do you need company?”

The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. He had company whether he wanted it or not. “No, sweetheart. I’m just going to walk around the house and come back. Got to get my steps in. I’ll be right back.”

And he loped off before they had time to protest, heading for the front door. He could feel something akin to a panic attack building inside his lungs and he wanted to get outside where nobody (well, no one with a body) could see him. He could control this. He always had.

“Hey, Tony?” Steve called after him and Tony turned, his hand on the door. By ducking his head, he could see his husband still, just Steve actually, though the captain still seemed to have Pete pinned down.

“Steve?”

“Come back soon or I’ll come find you.”

“Affirmative, Captain. I never could stray far from you.”

“Good.”

Chapter Text

The noise inside the house fell away the moment he shut the front doors behind him. He leaned against the wood, out of view of the windows and took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly.

Steve would be upset if he knew that Tony had left them to have his panic attack, but being back home was bringing up some old bad habits. Sue him. He’d tell Steve afterwards, he told himself.

He knew his husband would prefer to know these things as they were happening, and he’d worked hard to be more communicative, but every once in a while, like now, it just didn’t work. Really, it was impressive it had taken this long for the panic to set in. Being around his parents had made him feel ill used, those last years they’d known each other. On edge. Not himself. Being back here? It was overwhelming.

He took another breath in. Let it out. Closed his eyes. “Are you here now?”

The windchimes clanged. The day was calm. There was no wind. “Alright,” he said. “It was just a shock. The mirror thing. Did you know you could do that? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I’m not-”

Not a young man anymore. The joke, so easy to say to Peter, fell flat at the thought of telling his mom that. “I just don’t understand.”

He needed to pull himself together. Jamming his hands in his pockets, he forced himself to take a step and then another, crossing the porch and heading down the front steps. He turned to the right, striding towards the driveway and crossing it nimbly. It was another beautiful day. The trees on the front drive, so imposing the first day they’d come here, had burst into riotous color.

He was alive. His parents were not. He’d spent a lot of the last years he’d had with them feeling angry. His therapist had said it was okay to be angry, had said that it didn’t change the fact that he loved or missed them. Steve had told him he’d deserved to be treated better. Pete… Pete said he’d never been bad.

He turned the first corner, his steps slowing now. He exhaled. Sunlight licked at his shoulders, did war with the wind. He felt both hot and cold.

He didn’t want to be mad, not now, not when he’d spent so much time sorting out all the foothills and pitfalls of his memories, the things that had hurt his heart, the new understanding he had as an adult.

Turning the next corner, he eased into the pool area, closing the gate behind him out of habit more than concern. The pool was empty and Pete was certainly old enough to rescue himself, but he felt a surge of parental protectiveness nevertheless.

His dad wanted him to come back here.

He stared into the empty pool, seeing nothing.

When he’d wanted them to want him, they hadn’t. What right did they have to ask things of him now?

There was a pinging noise from his pocket. Steve. He smiled faintly, seeing the name appear on his phone and disappear again. He flicked the screen to life. ‘You okay, honey?’

‘I’m okay, Captain,’ he wrote back, sending it on its way because he knew that under Steve’s jubilance and strength was a profound amount of anxiety. ‘Sorry. Fixing my head.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with your head,’ was sent almost immediately back to him. He huffed, but Steve had made him smile. ‘Did we do something wrong?’

‘Never! Get that out of your head, Cap-’ He paused. ‘When I looked into-,’ he started typing and then he erased it. ‘The mirror-’ And no, that was wrong too. He didn’t think Steve would think he was insane, not after the week they’d had, but he felt a little insane saying he’d seen dear old mum and daddy staring back out at him from the glass. ‘I’m coming around the house in a moment. Can we take a walk? All of us?’

‘I’ll tell Pete to bundle up.’

He pushed himself to his feet. Already, he felt more level, a bit more like himself, and he did have a good sense of who he was now, didn’t he? He was Peter’s dad. Steve’s husband. A good friend, they all told him, someone who liked dogs and loved cats, a forty year old man who had made it through a lot of trauma to be this person- this person his parents had never met until now-

And they liked him like this? Strange, but more and more- Peter had had something to do with this, he thought- these past few years he’d thought maybe he was turning back into the person he’d been all along. The person he’d been before prep school and the drugs, the older college students who had treated him like he was- the person he’d been before his parents had died.

He just couldn’t fathom how they’d turned away from him so easily. In Peter, he’d found himself. And he loved Peter.

“I wasn’t a bad kid,” he insisted to the empty pool. There was no response. He hadn’t been expecting one.

Turning on his heel, he headed for the front porch.

Chapter Text

His boys were waiting for him when he rounded the last corner of the house, sitting on the front steps, Steve’s legs impossibly long, Peter looking so much younger comparatively, but then he always did next to Steve, brawny, tall, loving Steve who looked at Peter with the softness most people reserved for newborns and puppies, and they were waiting for him.

“Are you going to be warm enough dressed like that?” he asked Peter, standing toe to toe with him.

Pete moved up a step so that he was now a few inches taller than Tony. Little shit, he thought fondly. “Dude, I’ve got like four layers on.”

“Show me,” he insisted, shaking his head at the kid because Pete was liable to label the napkin in his pocket a layer and Pete didn’t thermoregulate and now that it was late September, it was only getting colder.

Pete rolled his eyes at him, but he obliged the man, digging through the layers to show Tony a nerdy shirt, a flannel, one of his old sweatshirts (pretty worn though), and then Steve’s leather jacket of course.

“What about your toes?” he asked and Pete actually groaned. “Are you wearing the socks we made for you?”

“Yes, mother-”

“I brought down your jacket,” Steve said, getting to his feet at last. “I thought maybe we’d go to a diner after our walk? Gotta run the cars periodically.” But Tony wasn’t fooled. Steve was trying to get him out of the house and he was grateful because this morning had been strangely heavy.

“You and your diners,” he said, but he sounded so fond even to his own ears that he didn’t think he was fooling anyone. Steve held his jacket out for him, helping him into it. From his pocket, he produced a red watchman’s cap which he shoved unceremoniously onto Pete’s head, flattening his curls.

“You people are ridiculous,” Pete complained.

“Walk and complain,” Tony said, grinning at him. “Move those muscles.”

“Must be such a hardship to have two dads that love you,” Steve said, linking arms with Tony.

“It is,” Pete said with dignity.

“Can’t help it, Roo. You’re just so good.”

“Beautiful, sweet Pete,” Steve agreed and though his tone had a mock graveness to it, Tony knew that he was fucking with the teenager now.

“Ahh,” Peter moaned. He jogged ahead of them, heading for the trail.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, pressing his lips to Tony’s hair, too worried about him apparently to complete the kiss that Tony wanted and felt he deserved.

“Yes.”

“You were having a panic attack,” the soldier said, lifting their linked hands to kiss Tony’s knuckles and that was always a nice substitute.

“I was about to have a panic attack,” he corrected him mildly. Pete could hear them, he knew. But they’d all- Steve, Natasha, May, him- had agreed that Peter needed to see them be vulnerable to know it was okay himself to be so. So he forced himself to keep talking. “I know I should get help from you when I’m like that and usually I do. But I couldn’t panic in front of them.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“That would have made them mad in the past?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He’d thought when he was a kid that they were mad at him. Now he wasn’t sure. “It just wasn’t allowed. I can control myself. I got myself back under control.”

The three of them were quiet for a few minutes. Steve maintained his firm hold on Tony, like he worried the mechanic would run away. Tony was most invested in the sight of Peter in front of them, easily scaling roots and climbing up trees, jumping from stone to stone. He let his husband guide him, looking up at the trees above them, impossibly beautiful, just flashes of red and orange amongst the greenery-

Steve settled a hand on the space in between the small of his back and his hip, pulling gently to move him around rocks and roots, silent communication they’d perfected after so many years together. Christ, Steve was still the most beautiful thing in his world. He wanted to tell the man that he loved him, but he sensed that his captain was mulling something over.

“I think,” Steve said meditatively. “This time- and you always have a choice in this- this time if they love you, they need to love all of you. You as you are. And you’re not bad for having panic attacks. It doesn’t make you weak. I have them too. You help me. You love me through them. That’s what family does.”

“They keep trying to make it seem like they feel bad, that they want a connection this time around, and I never thought I’d have that,” he said, needing to say this now, not sure if they were hearing him or not. “But it’s- it’s hard and it’s frightening and I was always raised to be a certain way and then I didn’t want to be that way anymore- and I’ve tried to be a better person. I don’t want to go back to how I was after they died.”

Peter was waiting for them and as they came upon him, he took Tony’s other hand. The effect was almost absurd; he felt like an overgrown toddler. Peter didn’t even try to pretend he hadn’t been listening. “Do you remember what you said to me right after I came back?” he asked. “When I was all moody and angry and thought that I’d never be the same?”

He squinted. He didn’t like to remember that time of their life and he didn’t like putting Pete back in that headspace either.

“You said,” Peter continued, undeterred, “that maybe I wouldn’t be the same person I was beforehand. But I’d still be Peter and you’d still love me. You said I was going to change over and over again and you promised you’d love every iteration of me.”

“And I do,” he whispered. Slinging an arm around Pete’s neck, he pulled him close.

“I love you, Tony. I think your parents do too. I think they’re trying to tell you that. Maybe they’re just bad at it.”

“Maybe,” he allowed. He pecked Pete on the forehead. “You’re probably right, baby.”

“May comes tomorrow,” Pete said next, sounding excited. He slipped Tony’s hold, finding a dense layer of leaves that he purposefully dragged his feet through, making them crunch. “Do you think Natasha would come?” he asked, spinning around and walking backwards so that he could face them.

“Depends on what happens tomorrow. Was May planning on staying the night?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said thoughtfully. “Want me to call her?”

“Later, there’s no rush,” Steve assured him. “You call May. I’ll coordinate with Natasha.”

“Okay.”

“Have you been missing May? I thought you guys would talk more than you have,” Tony said, observing the kid.

Pete twisted around, doing an impromptu handstand. “We text every day,” he explained, walking on his hands and then dropping down onto his feet with no extra effort. “She sends her love and a warning- apparently- that she’s going to give you extra hugs tomorrow.”

“Wow, at least I’m forewarned,” he quipped, but he liked May Parker’s hugs, relished them even. He nudged Steve. “I hope Nat can come. Even just for the day.”

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

There was something to eating at the diner that Tony hadn’t anticipated- He felt a palpable sense of freedom as they slipped down the front drive and the roads in the surrounding area, Steve driving actually, and he felt the presence of his parents slipping away; it was like leaving a party at the end of the night when all you wanted was to take off your dress shoes and maybe find a pair of sweatpants to crawl into and die in.

“Think they’re worried we’re leaving for good?” Pete asked.

“We left all of our stuff. Including a car,” Tony pointed out, but his stomach dropped at the thought of disappointing his mother. And yet- Unbidden, the memory of her slapping him rose up within him again. Funny how once buried memories kept cropping up now that he’d let them out to play. He didn’t love it. “Anyways, they’ve probably been eavesdropping, heard where we’re going.”

“I’m shocked that you haven’t ventured out before this,” Steve commented, tooling along. “You get cabin fever at home all the time.”

“This is also the man who would spend three days in the lab if his husband allowed it,” he murmured.

“His husband would miss him too much,” Steve countered and Pete laughed at them. “Alright, so you can hunker down, but usually it’s for things that you enjoy.”

“I’ve been with Pete,” he pointed out.

“Oh, yeah that’s true-”

“You like spending time with me that much?” Pete called from the backseat.

He twisted around in his seat so he could look at the teen. “It’s my favorite thing,” he said simply. Pete scoffed at this, turning pink. “I’ve never found anything I’ve loved doing quite as much,” he continued, undeterred.

“Oh my god, dude-”

Steve was singing the Rainbow Connection under his breath. Tony shrugged at Pete and, twisting around, began doing his own Kermit impression. He didn’t know where Steve had picked up on his Kermit obsession (he thought he’d kept this pretty well covered, all these years) but he had apparently; the captain laughed at his impression of the song, gradually singing louder and louder and giggling-

Natasha had texted him back Wednesday night that unfortunately she was getting pulled into a mission and would have to catch him when she’d gotten back; Tony had swallowed his disappointment, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before he saw his redheaded girl again, but wishing that she could have come out to see him here, see the childhood he’d so often whispered to her during their late night talks.

So when May showed up at the mansion, with Natasha right behind her, he did a double take. “Surprise,” the women both said.

“What’d you do, nuke the factory?”

“No, silly, Sam took it. Like I’d miss coming to see you.” She pushed him into the house, grinning at him and he didn’t have it in him to be mad at her for tricking him. “I asked him last night after we’d texted,” she explained. “I was going to tell you, but then I thought, well-” She shrugged. Slipping into his personal space, she wrapped him in a hug.

“You thought you’d surprise me instead,” he murmured, rocking her.

“Yeah.”

“Cause after spending a week with my ghost parents, I haven’t been surprised enough.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, largely unperturbed by him and his theatrics. She pushed a piece of hair off his forehead and grinned at him. “I’ve missed you.” And, ducking under his arm, she slipped away towards Peter, whispering something to him that only they could hear.

He held out an arm for May. “What about you?” he asked. “I heard something about hugs- oof-”

“Hey, Tony,” she said, squeezing him. Christ, the women in their family were strong. “How are you?”

“I’m okay now. Pete’s been a treat. Are you staying the night?”

She shook her head. “Just here for the day. I have to work tomorrow. And Natasha-”

Seizing her around the waist, he spun her in an impulsive circle. “So we’ll have to make the most of the time we have,” he said, twirling her down to her feet (she clutched at him, laughing). “Pete’s doing well, I think. Nightmares the one night but other than that, he’s been pretty calm- Don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve had been leaning on the bannister, watching them with bright interest. “Being with Tony seems to have really helped him,” he said.

She kissed him on the cheek. “We knew it would. Thanks, Tony.”

“Did you bring…?” Steve trailed off.

“Bring what?” Tony asked suspiciously but May beamed at the captain, swooping towards her large handbag. “Something your husband requested,” she called over her shoulder, kneeling on the ground. “The house was missing a couple of things. Natasha and I spent all of yesterday-”

She produced a framed photo from her handbag, turning it around with a flourish so that Tony could see it- a copy of one of their wedding photos, the one he really liked in fact, all sage green and purple lilacs and they- him and Steve- had been giddy with love, with laughter- May handed this to Steve and Steve gave him a mock salute, moving over to the table where someone (his father?) had knocked down the pictures that first day the captain had come over. By moving pictures around, Steve fit the frame in amongst all the others. “Much better,” he said happily. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure they’ll like it,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He startled when May touched his elbow again. “I never told them I was bisexual. We wouldn’t have talked about stuff like that-”

“But you are,” May said firmly. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t think they’d hate you for what you are,” Steve added, coming towards him. “But if they do, that’s their loss. Changes nothing.”

And they let him be alone; Tony could hear them in the library- Steve calling out to him what they’d be doing. He answered absently, watching the frames rippling on the table in front of him, like cards being shuffled. His mom? Maybe. He watched the wedding photo float up in the air and hover there, like someone was looking at it, thinking- thinking what?- and then it was placed at the front of the table, the other frames shuffled out of the way.

“Is that where you really want it?” he whispered

There was a pause- no sound really- and then the sound of the piano being played in the other room, all the answer he was going to get, he assumed. He resisted the urge to follow her into the music room, opting to head up the stairs instead.

He found Peter and Natasha on the second floor, Peter explaining the locked door to her apparently. “I was asking Natasha if she’d pick it,” he explained, glancing up and finding Tony there.

“And what do you think?” he asked, his eyes on their Russian spy.

“I was saying if Pete couldn’t pick it, I probably wouldn’t either,” she answered crisply. “He says you don’t want to force it open.” Not a question, just a statement, but he could sense her meaning.

He lifted on shoulder and let it drop, smiling gently at Pete. “There’s a chance that my dad reinforced it in some way that could be dangerous,” he allowed.

“But that’s not what you really think,” she surmised.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t take the risk, not with my Petey, but no.”

She nodded, looking over the framing of the door. Pete followed her gaze and (his interest obviously piqued) climbed up the wall, situating himself on the ceiling and running a finger over the frame of the door. “Don’t want to know what’s in there?” she asked.

He took her hand, stepping forward. “I think if they wanted me to get in there, they’d get the key to me. I think the fact that we haven’t found it- after searching for a week straight- speaks for itself. Sorry, Pete. Did I waste your time?”

“Nah,” the teen called down. “I’m curious about the room and it would be nice to know what was in there-” He flipped, landing on his feet. “But it was always about you. I just like being with you.”

“I like being with you,” he croaked. He saw Natasha giving him a knowing look from behind Pete’s back, but screw it, he couldn’t help himself.

“Why do you think they called you here if they weren’t going to let you in there?” she asked next.

Pete nodded along, his own face pensive. “Do you think they were trying to get us to come here, then?” he asked her. “Well- Tony?”

“Tony would know better than me.”

He ran his thumb over her knuckles, the movement grounding, self regulating. Why had they brought him there? It would have been cruel to bring him back there just to lock him out again. How had they known he would come? It suggested they understood him more than he’d ever felt understood. “Perhaps they were curious,” he suggested.

“Curious about you?”

“Maybe they wanted to make sure that I hadn’t crashed and burned in some wreck,” he joked lightly. “I’m sure that’s what they thought I was heading towards.”

Peter’s response was cut off by the sound of something rolling across the floor. They all looked down to see the lock pick he’d lost days earlier coming to a halt in the middle of their little group. “Oh hey,” Pete said excitedly. “Thanks. It rolled under the door,” he told Natasha.

“When you were trying to pick it?”

“Yeah.”

“They must not have a lot of faith in your lock picking skills if they’re giving it back to you,” she said brightly and Pete scowled at her. She chucked him on the chin.

“Where’d May go?”

“Pretty sure my husband is showing her baby pictures in the library.” He looked at Natasha. “You weren’t interested in that?”

“Mm, we’re bringing them back to the Compound with us. That’s how I convinced Sam to take my mission, actually- everyone wants to see baby Tony-”

“Oh, Christ,” he said, but he was floating, really. The house had never felt fuller than it did now, so many of his favorite people with him; he really had gotten a family this time around. The younger version of himself never would have believed it possible.