AN: Hey losers. Are you ready to do it all over again?

Yes? Good. Me too.

(Note for this chapter: I decided that Peter's birthday is June 1st in this universe, based off of Tom Holland's birthday.)

"Hey Spider-baby." Tony ruffled the kid's hair as he stumbled into the kitchen. "Bacon?"

"Please."

Peter hopped onto the barstool and it bobbled preciously, making Tony's heart leap into his throat. He lunged half over the counter in order to grab fistfuls of his kid's shirt and steady him.

The teenager grinned, a little sheepish. "Oops?"

"Give me a heart attack anytime, kid." He let go of his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles left behind. He could feel Peter's chest rise and fall underneath his palm. Breathing. Alive. "Jesus."

"I could've caught myself, y'know."

"Sure you could've." He piled a plate full of bacon and slid it over the counter. "What else do you want?"

"Can you make me a grilled cheese?"

He was moving to grab the cheese and butter even as he protested. "Not really breakfast food, champ."

"It's breakfast. And I'm eating it." Peter grinned around a mouthful of bacon. "So it's breakfast food."

"Your logic is astounding. I remember why you have a 4.0 GPA, now." He turned on the stove and greased a pan. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

Tony nearly rolled his eyes to the back of his head. This fucking kid. "Yes, tomorrow. Also known as: the day of your birth."

"That's got a nice ring to it." Peter was loose and relaxed, chin resting in his hand as he slumped across the counter and, somehow, three bar stools. Because that's definitely how furniture was made to be used, kiddo. "Happy Day of Your Birth! It's catchy."

He dropped the sandwich into the pan and tossed Peter a dish towel. "Wipe the grease off your face, little jokester." He dodged to the left when the teenager threw the rag back at his face. "You're gonna have to pick that up, y'know. Add it to your list of chores."

"You don't give me chores."

"Now I do."

"Rude."

The billionaire smiled and flipped the sandwich. "Seriously, though. You excited?"

Peter kicked his legs off the stools and constricted inwards. "I guess."

"Wow there, Pete. Don't hold back that enthusiasm on my account." He plopped the grilled cheese onto a plate and cut it with the spatula. Two triangles, like the kid preferred. "Seriously, buddy. What's wrong? It's your big sixteenth. Aren't teenagers supposed to look forward to that kind of stuff?"

The teenager shrugged, taking the plate from Tony's outstretched hand. "It's dumb."

"You say that a lot, but you're rarely right."

Peter picked up half of his sandwich and turned it around in his hands, stalling. "It's just my first birthday without May, 's all."

Oh. Oh. Tony was an idiot.

And a terrible father.

An idiotic, terrible, no good father without the tiniest ounce of emotional intelligence.

Yep, that was Tony Stark.

"Oh, Pete." He dropped his elbows onto the counter and ducked to catch his kid's gaze. "Hey. It's okay to be sad about that."

"You're supposed to say she'd want me to be happy."

"And she would." He tapped the back of Peter's hand, which was still slowly rotating the grilled cheese a few inches above the counter. "But if you're not, if you can't be, then she'd understand that, too."

Peter dropped his breakfast onto the plate with a tangy plop. There was a fledgling smile on his face. "You always know what to say. Uncle Ben did, too. Is it a dad thing?"

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlove-

"Yeah, squirt. We didn't graduate top of our classes at Dad School for nothing, did we?" Peter giggled. 10 points to Tony. "Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold. We've got a big day of doing absolutely nothing ahead of us."

They were in the middle of an episode of Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader? when Steve called.

Steve never called.

"Sorry, kiddo." He grabbed his phone and went to stand. "Keep track of the answers for me."

Peter nearly fell off the couch in his haste to mute the TV. "No, that's fine. I mean, uh, you can answer it here. I don't mind."

There were undercurrents to Peter's words. Meanings wrapped in syllables that Tony had learned to read better than he knew how to read himself. He heard this undercurrent loud and clear, a riptide tearing right from between his kid's lips.

Don'tgodon'tgodon'tgo.

"Sure thing." He flung an arm over Peter's shoulders, hoping that the physical contact would quiet his tides, and answered the call. "Stark."

"Hey, Tony. Are you busy?"

"It's just me and Peter, if that's what you're asking."

"He's with you?"

"Yes."

A heavy sigh crackled over the line. "Alright. Well, I was wondering if you could come to the Compound tonight."

"Why?"

"We're having a team briefing. There's a lot to discuss, and you're going to want to be there."

"What are we discussing, exactly?"

"Things that I'd rather not disclose over an open line." A pause. "It has to do with the transmission we received a few months ago."

("Where is Doctor Banner?"

"Where is Thor?"

"What do you know about the being known as Thanos?"

He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know.

But Ross didn't care. He hurt Peter anyway.)

Steve's voice softened. Somehow, the soldier had sensed his friend's anxiety through the call. A part of the billionaire resented the fact that, even after everything, they were still so in tune. Still so emotionally intimate. "Listen, Tony. I know that things are still a little tense between us, but I really think that-"

Tony cut him off. He wasn't prepared for this conversation. He wasn't sure he ever would be. "When's the meeting?"

Steve recovered from the interruption well. "When can you get here?"

He checked his watch while Peter dropped his head onto his shoulder and looked up at him through dark eyelashes. Tony ran two fingers absently behind the kid's ear and over his jawline while he talked. "I can be there around 5:00."

"Then I'll see you at 5:00." Tony ignored the awkward beats of silence that followed, busying himself with pulling a loose threat from Peter's t-shirt. Finally, Steve spoke. "Thank you, Tony."

"Sure thing, Capsicle."

He clicked off the call and tossed the phone onto a cushion with a shaky release of breath.

"So you're, uh, going to the Compound? Today?"

Tony shifted his gaze back to Peter, and felt his thoughts realign. "Guess so. Fancy a trip upstate, kiddie?"

Joy lit up on the teenager's face. "I can come?"

"'Course you can come." He ruffled his curls. "What would I do without my trusty sidekick?"

Peter grinned. "That's a good question."

Yeah, he thought, a question I hope I never get an answer to.

"We need to talk."

"So you said."

Steve's eyes flickered to Peter. He started to sigh, then cut himself off. "I see you brought the kid. I was wondering if you would." The soldier gave Peter a tight smile. "Hey there, Peter. It's nice to see that Tony lets you out of the Tower every once in a while."

Peter slid his shoulder behind his father's back and scooted away from Steve. "Hi Mister, uh, Captain America Sir."

Some of the tension in the soldier's jaw loosened as he laughed. "It's just Steve, kid."

"Steve. Right. Yeah. Cool."

Tony could feel Peter shaking against his side and set a mental reminder to mention Peter's sudden shyness to their therapist. He clapped his hands, hoping to divert the conversation away from the kid.

"Well, glad we had this little chat. Where's the big meeting, Cap?"

Steve jerked his chin to the right. "Meeting room. C'mon. Everyone else is already here."

Tony couldn't help the sarcastic murmur. "Of course they are."

When the reached the door, Steve pointed to a few couches scattered the communal living space. "We shouldn't be long, Peter. Make yourself at home."

The soldier's meaning took a minute to settle against Tony's perception, and then he jolted. "Sorry, Cap," he tightened his hold on Peter's sleeve, "the kid stays with me."

"Your choice, Tony." Steve's gaze darted between the pair, and the billionaire had to swallow back a growl. It's just Steve. Steve won't hurt Peter. He won't. "He listens in on this and he's in the fight for good. Or, you let him sit outside for a few minutes and he gets to stay a kid for a little while longer."

Tony felt torn apart. Windblown and storm scattered. He'd barely been without Peter since the Raft. They spent every moment, waking and un-waking, together. Every single one of his I's had become we's. Tony and Peter. Peter and Tony.

Him and his kid.

But… he didn't want Peter to be a part of this fight. He knew that his involvement might end up being inevitable, unavoidable, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep him as far away from it as he could.

There was a time when he would have risked anything for the greater good, but not anymore. He wouldn't risk Peter. That was a price he would never be willing to pay. A sacrifice he would never be content with offering.

He'd watch the universe burn to the ground if that's what it took to keep his child safe.

"Alright." The decision made his throat twist, but he knew it was right. He knew it was necessary. "Go sit, Pete. I'll be out as quick as I can be, okay?"

The panic that swelled against his kid's pupils made guilt, frigid and heavy, settle in his stomach. "Don't I get a say?"

"Nope." He meant to sound cocky and reassuring, but the word came out a little breathless. I'm just as scared as you, buddy. "No say for Spider-babies. Wait until you're a Spider-adult, then we'll talk."

"Dad," Peter's voice was barely a whisper, nervous gaze shifting to Steve before settling back on Tony, "please? I-I don't want you to go."

"Go?" He smoothed a curl back against Peter's temple. "Who said anything about going, huh? I'll just be right in there." He jerked his head towards the conference room. "Not going anywhere."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, kiddie, I know." I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. "But you'll be fine. I'll be back before you know I'm gone, okay?"

Peter scrunched up his face. "O-okay."

Good boy. "Look at my Spider-baby." Peter winced as Tony pinched his cheeks, cooing softly as if he was a toddler. "They grow up so fast."

"Shut up."

He snickered, reaching down to untwist the string on Peter's hoodie. He knew he was stalling. Frankly, he wasn't sure if it was for the kid's sake or his own. He wasn't even sure if those two things were all that separate, anymore.

He steeled himself. Stark men are made of iron.

"See ya in a bit, bud. Be good. Ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. if you need anything."

"M'kay."

It took every ounce of his resolve to leave Peter standing there, practically swimming in his oversized hoodie and curls hanging in his face, but he did it.

I'm sorry, kid, but this is me protecting you. I know it doesn't seem like it, but it is.

And I have to protect you. It's the only thing I understand anymore.

They slid into the meeting room, and Tony was struck by an intense rush of déjà vu. Everyone was scattered around the table, feet propped up and postures set in carefully groomed passivity. If he ignored the almost audible tick of a metaphorical time bomb, he could pretend that it was before.

Steve glanced at the closed door before returning his gaze to Tony. He dropped his voice to a level that wouldn't be overheard by the congregated team. "He's grown dangerously codependent. You do know that, right?"

He shot the solider a look that dripped with acid, not bothering to keep his words at a whisper. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that how I handle my kid was your business."

Steve raised his hands in surrender. "I don't want to fight, Tony. I was just mentioning it."

"Well, mention it less." He snapped, then deflated. God, he'd been spending so much time with Peter that he forgot how hard emotional shit was with anyone other than him. "I know, Cap. Believe me, I know."

I know because I'm the same way. I know because I don't think I can function without him, and I know that he can't function without me, and I don't know how to fix it.

Somedays, I don't know if I want to.

Steve studied him for a second, mouth slightly opened as if he was waiting for the right words to crawl into his mouth. Before he could find them, however, another voice interrupted.

"If you two lovebirds are finished?" Both men whipped around to look at Clint, who was sprawled across his chair someone had just tossed him there. "Don't we have, like, world-ending bullshit to discuss?"

Steve shifted from concerned friend to seasoned Captain in a heartbeat. "And more. So, we'd better get started."

Tony tossed his suit jacket over the back of a conference chair and dropped into it with an air of casual confidence. Pouritonpouritonpouriton. Shield. Deflect. Convince them. "Actually, I have a question." He gestured around the room, eyes narrowing as he noticed something off. "Where's Vis and Wanda?'

"They left."

"They left?" Tony didn't even try to hide his incredulousness. "They just… left? And you let them?"

Steve ran a tired hand over his face. "Wanda was pardoned, Tony. She can do what she wants. And Vision is sentient enough to make his own choices."

"Why wasn't I told?"

Sam snorted. "Guess you were too busy swaddling your kid in bubble wrap to notice."

He whipped his chair around to face him, fire in his throat. "Do you have a problem with Peter?"

"Enough." Cap sent a warning look to Sam. "We're not here to talk about any of this. We're here to talk about Thanos."

Across the room, shoulders tensed and jaws tightened. Somehow, that single name had managed to fill the entire space with shuddering anticipation.

"First, we need to focus on what we know." Steve rolled his shoulders. "We know that we received a transmission from Banner and Thor about two months ago. The only thing it said was that someone called Thanos was working to collect a series of objects known as the Infinity Stones. Apparently, there are six of them, and they're more powerful than anything we could ever imagine. He's also looking for some kind of vessel that will allow him to wield them. Thor mentioned something about a gauntlet. Besides that, he just told us to be ready." The soldier swept his gaze across the room. "That's all we've got. We don't know his plan. We don't know his motivations. We don't even know what the Infinity Stones are capable of, or how they work. What we do know is that something's coming, something big, and it's the Avengers' job to be ready for it."

I told you. They were always going to come. We're too loud. We're too inviting. It was only a matter of time.

"Tony," Steve's voice lost its edge, "did Ross say anything more than we already knew?"

He swallowed. White walls. Black eyes. Red blood. "No."

"Not to you, at least," Sam crossed his arms, "but what about to the kid?"

"Peter?" Tony smothered a scoff. "Peter doesn't know anything."

"You sure about that? You've asked him?"

"Well, no, but-"

"So you don't actually know."

Certainty filled his chest. I was right to take him away. I was right to hide him in the Tower. He's a blip in their expectations. They're wary of him. Even worse, they're curious. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing. I'm just suggesting that we might want to use all our resources."

"Except Stark's kid isn't a resource," Tony's gaze snapped over to meet Clint's as the archer straightened in his seat, "he's a child. A child who went through one hell of a fucked-up experience. One that you and I can relate to, Sam. Leave him be."

"Clint's right." Steve set his palms against the table and pressed down. "It's unlikely that Ross would have revealed anything important to Peter. We leave him out of this."

For now. But for how long? If this is it, how can I protect him?

"As it is, all we can do is prepare for the worst." Natasha's voice was as smooth as ever, no hint of fear or strain in the inflection. "So we train. We prepare. We put our differences behind us and we look forward. We act like the adults that we are." A smirk curled her lips. It was an invitation to defy her. Or, at least, it was an invitation to try. "Are we all in agreement, boys?"

The room was filled with muttered affirmations and erratic, reluctant nods.

Can we make a team out of this? Is it salvageable?

Are we salvageable?

"And just because we're preparing for a threat that's coming doesn't mean we can start ignoring the ones that are sitting on our doorstep." Steve pushed away from the table and crossed his arms. "That's the other reason for this meeting. We've gotten word from one of Fury's sources that a new Hydra cell has cropped up in Yukon, Canada, somewhere in the Kluane National Park and Reserve. Apparently, there's intel that suggests that they're creating a superweapon."

"A superweapon?" Tony couldn't help the snicker. "Like the Death Star?"

"That's a Star Trek reference, right?"

"Close, Capsicle. Star Wars, Episode IV and VI." At the team's indignant stares, he rushed to explain himself. "They're Peter's favorite movies, okay? We watch them a lot."

"Oh my god." Sam whispered. "Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark?"

He clenched his fists but stayed silent.

"The point is," Steve looked exhausted, and Tony felt a brief pang of sympathy for him, "that Hydra is up to something, and it's our job to stop it. Fury's contact is going to work on digging up some more information. Once we have that intel, we go in."

Go in. As in, leave. As in, leave Peter behind. As in, leave Peter all alone.

"All of us?"

Steve's gaze rested on Tony for a moment. There was an apology in his eyes. "This is Hydra. You know what they're like. You know what they can do. It might take all of us to finish this one." He shifted uncomfortably, a brief flash of the man behind the soldier. "And no one understands weapons like you, Tony. You might be the only one who can shut this thing down, once we find it."

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve was right. There was nobody else in the world who understood weapons like Tony Stark did. He'd dedicated dozens of years to studying every facet of warfare. If it came down to disabling something dangerous, he was the best qualified to do it. It made sense that he would go. It was the logical choice.

But his need to protect Peter didn't give two shits about logic.

"We'll have a more in-depth briefing before we deploy, whenever that may be." Steve seemed to catch everyone's gaze all at once. There was a collective suspension of breath. "Until then, we need to focus on the team. If we'll be working together, both during this mission and in the future, we have to be a cohesive unit. Past differences need to be set aside, for the good of the team and everyone else. Anybody have any objections to that?"

The words rang, bitter and unwanted, in Tony's ears. But, either way, he knew that Steve had a point.

Again.

Damn it.

And, apparently, everybody else knew it too. Not a single mouth twitched to dispute the statement, and a sliver of the tension seemed to slip out of Steve's shoulders.

"Good." The soldier gave a quick, precise nod. His eyes had the look of a man who wanted to run. Tony wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't see the same exhaustion staring back at him every time he looked in the mirror. "We're going to implement team training days. We'll work on our in-battle cooperation, try to rediscover our rhythm. Until then, keep working on your own." A pause. A swallow. A visual reevaluation of the gathered heroes. "That's all."

The team took the words as a dismissal, and chairs squeaked as everyone rushed to stand. Tony stood beside the doorway and caught Clint's arm as the man moved to leave, tugging him away from the stream of people for a moment of relative privacy.

"Hey," Tony swallowed, "thanks for that. For speaking up for my kid, I mean. I just… I don't forget shit like that, alright?"

Eloquent, Stark. Peter's stuttering is rubbing off on you.

"Don't get the wrong impression. I'm still pissed as hell." The archer's entire face softened. "But I'm a dad too. I know what it's like when someone tries to fuck with your kids. Sam was out of line."

"Yeah, well," he just wanted Peter, "thanks."

"Sure." Clint waved a hand towards the door. "Now go to your kid. I could see you twitching for the entire meeting. I almost asked Cap if we could strap you down."

He laughed, and some of the awkwardness seemed to release. "I hate when I can't have eyes on him."

"That's the parental spirit. Just so you know, it never goes away." He slapped his arm. "Later, Stark. Try not to fuck him up too badly."

Tony watched the man's retreating form with a grimace.

I'm trying. I'm really, really trying.

Peter practically crashed into him when he stepped out of the room, a mass of half-panicked super-teen.

Tony laughed as he shoved his face into his parent's collarbone, ignoring Natasha and Steve's stares. He had his kid, so nothing else mattered. "Hey, buddy. Rough, uh," he checked his watch, "wow, yeah, a rough twenty minutes, huh?"

"Yeah."

He ran his fingers through Peter's hair. He's okay. He's fine. He's good. Everything's good. "McDonald's and then Monopoly?"

The teenager pulled back a little. "D'you think Pepper will play?"

"Do you want to lose?"

"But it's funny to watch you lose."

"You're a terror."

Peter blinked up at him with imploring eyes. "But I'm your terror, right?"

"That you are." He ran a thumb along the nap of the kid's neck. "You wanna team up against Pepper?"

"We'll still lose."

"And yet we'll lose with honor."

Peter let out a rattling breath, shoulders slumping as he dropped his head back against his father's chest. Tony just ran his hand up and down his spine in a comforting rhythm, letting his fingers linger in the kid's hair before continuing the pattern.

"It's all good, bud. I'm back, and you've got me for as long as you want now." He shot a sideways look at Steve and Natasha, who were shamelessly watching the pair. Yep. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. "Ready to head on home, kiddo?"

"Yes, please."

He tucked Peter under his arm, intending to guide him straight out the door without even the briefest backwards glance, when Natasha's voice stopped him.

"Tony."

"Natasha."

She walked in front of them and caught Peter's eye. Whenever he tried to dart his gaze away, she intensified the contact and held it. "You need training."

Peter's voice is small. "I have training."

"Not enough." She cocked a hip and surveyed the kid's form before looking back to Tony. "Bring him here on Monday. I'll teach him."

He bristled at the order. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do I not have a say in this?"

Natasha shrugged, already turning to leave. "I can teach him how to keep himself alive. If you don't want him to have those skills, feel free to lock him up in the Tower and hope for the best. Otherwise, let me help you help him." She shot a parting smile at Peter. The kid shrunk back like she was going to eat him alive. "See you on Monday, little spider."

Tony watched her go with a strange feeling in his stomach. He realized that it was dread.

Something's coming, he thinks, something's coming and it's going to mow us down like a million blades of grass.

AN: I'm just gonna clarify that this story is NOT going to be anti-Team Cap. However, there is a TON of tension right now. It would be unrealistic to believe that everyone would be best buddies after Civil War. It's going to take time.

I also know that this chapter is a little hard on Sam, but he'll warm up. It's important to remember that he didn't know Tony as well as the others before the Civil War, and he's always been distrusting of him anyway. They'll all grow with time, I promise.