"You don't have to hold back so much with me, Peter. I can take it, remember?"

The teenager nodded, blowing out a breath, as he threw another punch. Steve dodged it with ease, and tapped on Peters side with a smile, letting him know he'd left himself open.

"Keep your hands up, and your feet light. Try to move faster, I know you can."

Peter tried again, throwing a punch to Steve's shoulder; but it was far too soft. Steve laughed. "Come on, kid. You're doing a good job controlling your strength, but you don't need to with me. And you need a proper work out too. Hit me harder."

Peter hesitated, hands lowering a little. When he was first developing his powers, he'd been so strong he'd accidentally crushed his door handle, and he hadn't even been trying. After that he had made a conscious effort to control his strength, because he knew that he had the ability to kill someone with very little effort, and he never wanted to hurt anyone. Not even the criminals he fought to stop.

Taking away that restraint was not easy, and he didn't even know if he wanted to. It was a little scary, having that much power.

Steve's eyes softened, and he placed a hand on the kids shoulder. "You aren't going to hurt me."

Steve's hand tightened on Peters arm, and he smiled as he lifted Peter into the air with one hand, without much effort at all.

"See? I can take it." He put Peter back down, and watched the kid roll his shoulders out, nodding.

"Yeah, you're strong. It'll be fine. I saw you throw a helicopter at an alien once." He still sounded nervous; his rambling words an obvious effort to convince himself.

Steve shrugged, smiling. "It was empty, and broken anyway; and Bucky was borrowing my shield. What else was I going to use?"

This seemed to make Peter feel better, and he loosened the reins a little, relaxing and letting his guard down a smidge.

He threw a punch, hitting Cap in the shoulder. His fist made a loud thump as it hit Steve, and Peter quickly drew his hand back, worried, but Steve was nodding.

"I felt that one. Good, keep going."

Peter threw another, hitting Steves hand this time, when he caught his fist. "Harder."

Their fight sped up, growing in intensity as they both lost themselves to the energy of the fight. Peter moved faster, moving around the space, to stick on the walls and dodge hits, while Steve used his own strength too, watching in pride as Peter evaded each strike.

Peter was using his strength more, trusting himself not to push too far, and trusting that the other man could take it. And it felt good. He had kept his strength in control for so long, it was a relief to finally stretch those muscles and let himself use his gift.

The two of them, moved so fast, and with such strength, that it all became a blur, and it was only inevitable that something would eventually go wrong.

Peter had landed a solid kick to Steve's chest, sending him skidding across the floor, but the Avenger got up before he was down more than a second, and went running at the teenager.

With all the energy, and adrenaline going through the two of them, certain images started flickering in Steve's mind. Images of past fights, of past enemies, and the two scenes began to look too much alike.

For a moment, just a moment, Steve forgot where he was. In that second, he was back there, fighting an enemy that wouldn't hesitate to kill him, and all the innocent people they'd taken captive. The boy in front of him was no longer Peter, but a monster perading as a human, trying to eradicate a race of people they deemed unworthy.

It only took a moment for Steve's strength to slip too far. He took hold of Peters wrist, and slammed his fist into the teenagers chest, sending him crashing into a wall.

The boy dropped to the floor, and didn't move.

The room went quiet and Steve froze, watching that form on the floor, as his mind came back to him. It was 2017, he was in the compound, that was Peter.

He ran forward, kneeling beside the still form, and tried to breathe. "Oh god, what did I do?"

He almost didn't want to touch him, but he had to know if he was alright. Peter was laying on his chest, face turned to the side, and his eyes were closed. Steve watched him closely, as he carefully placed two fingers at his throat.

Relief flooded through him at Peters thumping pulse, and he watched the shallow rise and fall of Peters back, before he sucked in a shaky breath of his own, and called out to the AI.

"Friday, call Bruce and Tony. Tell them Peters hurt, and we need help."

He felt sick about what he'd done, and he didn't know how he was going to explain it to Stark, but he couldn't leave Peter, and so, he stayed; picking up Peters hand and holding it.

"Please be okay."

They came quickly, Tony sprinting over, towards his son, already freaking out as he demanded what happened.

Steve couldn't look at him as he spoke. "We were training, and...I'm sorry." He couldn't get the words out. They were too painful. I hit your son, I hurt a child. I'm so sorry.

Tony looked between Peter and Steve, expression morphing into one of disgust and fury.

"You did this?"

Steve pulled his hand away from Peters limp one, as Tony's voice grew louder. "It was an accident. I'm sorry, Tony."

"Get away from him!"

Steve pulled back, as Tony blocked him off from the kid. Bruce knelt next to the two, setting his bag of supplies next to him. His voice was quiet, but firm, demanding focus.

"I need room to work. Steve, what happened?"

Tony reluctantly shuffled back, as Bruce began checking over his patient. Steve watched, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he tried to explain.

"We were training, I was trying to get him to use his strength more, but...I got…" He didn't want to say he got confused, or forgot what time he was in, or where he was. It was his fault, he should have been able to control it.

"I hit him too hard. He crashed into the wall, and fell."

Tony's whole body was shifting in anxiety, constantly moving, as he tried to find something to do to control his emotions. His voice was thick as he watched Bruce's careful hands move over the crumpled form of his son.

"I trusted you with him."

Steve clenched his jaw. He wouldn't shy away from the harsh words. He deserved them.

"I'm sor-"

"I trusted you with the person that means more to me than anything else in this world, and you broke him! You could you not control your own strength, against a teenager? What if you'd killed him?!"

Bruce interjected, tone hard, making Tony sigh as he sagged, exhausted with worry.

"Tony. That's enough. Focus on Peter, we need to get him to the med bay."

Steve stepped forward, but stopped when Tony turned his face towards him, shoulders tense. His stomach clenched and he thought he might throw up. "How bad is it?"

The Doctor didn't take his eyes off Peter, as he carefully pressed his fingers to the kids side.

"From what I can tell, He's got a few broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, and wrist. Probably a concussion too, but I'll know more when I get some scans. He should be okay, though."

Tony's breathing was becoming more ragged, and Steve's stomach twisted further at the wobble in his friends voice.

"I don't want you in here."

Bruce looked up at Steve briefly, a silent apology in his eyes.

Steve watched Tony's stiff shoulders, wanting to apologize again, or give some sort of explanation, but he knew that's not what Tony wanted.

He left, heading straight to his room, and locking himself in.

….

Tony stood over Peters bed, as Bruce carefully shifted the kid around, in order to get the x rays he needed.

Peter was crying quietly, whimpering as his arm was moved. "It hurts! I don't want you to touch it!"

Bruce frowned, feeling awful, and gently took Peters arm, shifting it into the right position. "It'll be over soon, Peter. I just need to make sure I know what's going on, before I do anything else."

Tony stroked back his sons hair on his forehead, and held his good hand, as the teenager squirmed. "Just try to keep still, Pete. Bruce will be as quick as he can, and then we'll get it fixed up."

Tears continued to slip down his temples, as Peter shook his head, teeth chattering slightly at the fear and pain running through him.

Bruce made a final adjustment, before nodding to Tony, motioning that they needed to step out while the x-rays were done. But as soon as Tony pulled away from Peter, he let out a sob, and tried to grab him again.

"Dad!" He was panicked; eyes wide and face pale. Tony took his hand again, squeezing tightly as he tried to reassure him.

"Hey, you're okay. I'm right here, I just have to step away for a second. I'm only going to be a few meters away, Peter. I'll still be able to see you, and I'll be coming back."

Peters grip didn't ease, and Tony sighed. "I know you're scared, and that it hurts, but you trust Bruce don't you?"

Peter sniffed, nodding carefully. Tony brought a hand up to brush his sons tears away, his voice soft.

"We just need to make sure we know what's going on with your shoulder, so that Bruce can fix it properly. He'll have you feeling better in no time. I'm going to let go of your hand now, and I'm going to go over there, so that Bruce can take the x-rays, but as soon as he's finished, I'll come right back and you can hold my hand for as long as you like, okay?"

Peter nodded, but his fingers were still holding Tony's so tightly. He smiled comfortingly as he whispered. "Take a breath."

It hurt to breathe too deeply, because of his ribs, but he did as he was told, only wincing a little, as he looked up at his dad.

Tony squeezed his hand before letting go. "I'll be back in a second. Try not to move."

Peter scrunched his eyes closed, trying to block out the pain that came with every breath, and every minute movement, but soon, Tony was fulfilling his promise; coming back to his side and clutching his hand in his big one.

His smile was wide, as Peter opened his eyes. "See, I told you you'd be okay."

Peter sniffed again, eyes still damp, as he remembered. "Is Steve okay?"

He remembered training with him, before waking up in agony in the med bay, but he couldn't remember what had happened in between.

Tony's smile faded, and he looked away. "He's fine."

…

Bucky found him twenty minutes after Steves hasty retreat, throwing up in his bathroom, and nearing a panic attack.

"Steve?! What happened, whats wrong?"

The first Avenger retched again, shaking as he felt Bucky's hands on his back.

"I can't-"

He could still see the crumpled figure on the ground, the way his arm had been twisted so unnaturally. He was so young.

He panted, sweat dripping down his temple, and he felt Bucky's hands move from his back, before he heard the tap turn on.

Steve closed his eyes and leant back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. When Bucky came back, he was holding a wet washcloth, and he knelt beside his friend, face creased in concern.

Steve's heart beat began to slow, and calm, as Bucky placed a hand on his chest, his other hand gently swiping the cool cloth over Steve's face. The cold was a relief over his flushed skin, and he lifted a hand to grip the one over his heart, and his breathing finally slowed.

Bucky grounded him, fingers squeezing Steves gently, before his voice split the silence, with its low rumble.

"What happened?"

It wasn't the first time either of them had done that particular dance; with the things they went through, the things they did, and the jump through time that they had both endured, it was only expected they come with consequences.

Steve kept his eyes closed, a tear falling down his cheek as he tried to speak.

"I hurt a kid."

Bucky let out a quiet breath. "Peter. I saw Bruce and Tony take him through to the med bay. I had wondered what happened."

Steve's words were thick, as he rubbed his free hand over his forehead, as if trying to scrub the memories out. "It all got mixed up. I thought he was someone else, I thought I was back there. And I hit him."

Bucky knew what that guilt, felt like, and he knew what it felt like to have your mind slip.

"It wasn't your fault, Steve."

His voice was adamant. "I broke his bones, Buck."

There was a shuffle, as Bucky sat beside him, hand still clenching his. "I heard Bruce talking. Peters going to be fine, you should go see him."

Steve shook his head, finally opening his eyes and looking at his friend. "I can't. Tony doesnt want me in there, and I can't see them right now."

Bucky nodded, and wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulder. "Okay, we can wait. I'll get Friday to tell us about any updates."

His intended message was clear, in his relaxed promise to stay with him. He'd always stay.

Steve wiped a hand over his face, leaning into his friends hold. "Thanks."

…

Tony sat by the hospital bed, as Bruce secured the temporary cast onto Peters arm. The kid had been exhausted after the X-rays, and very painful resetting of his joints, and finally fell asleep with the help of some heavy duty pain meds.

Tony held his sons good hand, thumb rubbing gently over his skin, when there was a knock at the door.

Both men turned to see Bucky, as he walked towards the bed, gaze fixed on the sleeping figure.

"Is he okay?"

Tony turned back to Peter, clenching his jaw, against his anger. Bruce looked carefully between them, answering instead.

"Three broken ribs, displaced left shoulder and left wrist. They'll heal in a few days, and the concussion should be gone by tomorrow. He'll be just fine. How's Steve?"

Bucky looked the kid over, as he answered. "I found him in his room. Took a while to calm him down."

Bruce nodded in sympathy, but Tony was less sympathetic, bitter and angry. "He deserves to feel bad."

Bucky frowned at the other man, surprised. "Tony-"

He interrupted, voice raised as he gestured to Peter. "Look at what he did! He could have killed my son, and you want me to feel bad for him?"

Bucky squared his shoulders, decades of protecting Steve coming back to him in an instant, as he stepped towards Stark. "You know what wasn't his fault! He would never hurt anyone unless he had to, let alone Peter! You think he wanted this?!"

Tony stepped closer too, unwilling to back down. "I think he lost control! I think he needs to work on controlling himself!"

Bucky scowled, offended. "He can't control his flashbacks! You know that! I thought you of all people would be able to understand, given how many times he's helped you through your own nightmares! He feels awful for what he did, he loves Peter!"

Tony's anger melted into confusion in an instant. "He had a flashback?"

Bucky's fury did the same, his shoulders relaxing a little, as he watched Tony try to figure it out. "Yeah. He said it happened in the middle of their training, and he got confused. It all got mixed up and his strength slipped, for just a second. He didn't tell you?"

Tony shook his head, sighing. "Shit. I didn't even think about that, I just thought...Dammit."

Bucky nodded, backing off as Tony rubbed a hand over his face.

"You want me to go get him?"

Tony nodded, looking over at Peter. "Thanks."

…

Steve felt sick again, the moment he saw Peter. His arm was in a cast, and propped up on pillows, his eyes slightly glassy with medication; but he smiled as Steve came in.

"Hey! It's catpin mamerica!"

Tony sat next to the bed and laughed, patting the kids hair back. "Almost, Pete."

Steve made it to the end of the bed, watching over the two carefully. "Hi Peter. You feeling okay?"

The teenager nodded. "Uncle Bruce fixed my arm and then him and Dad and Bucky signed it. You wanna sign it? You can do one of your drawings on it!"

Steve searched his eyes, looking for any hint of fear, or anger, but there was none. It was the same trusting, loving Peter he'd always been. He looked to Tony instead, seeing nothing but apology and understanding in his eyes.

"I'm so so sorry, I-"

Tony held up a hand, interrupting yet another apology. "James already told me what happened. You don't have to explain."

Steve nodded, shoulders sagging. He was embarrassed and guilty, and he wouldn't let it go for a long while.

Tony continued, sounding tired. "I should have realised. I'm sorry for yelling at you, and for what I said. I didn't mean it' it's just, when it comes to Peter, I lose my head a bit. I get so worried that I can't think of anything else."

They both looked to where Peter was trying to write on his own cast, tongue sticking out as he tried to concentrate.

Tony laughed. "This parenting thing...everyone always says it's the hardest, yet most rewarding job, but no one tells you how many times it makes your heart fall out of your ass."

Steve cracked a smile. "Language."

Tony shook his head, carrying on as Steve took a seat next to him. "Seriously, I'm going to go grey so fast. I never thought I could love anything more than I love myself, let alone everything else in the world."

Steve watched as Peter scribbled a wobbly Spider-Man on his cast. "But here we are."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, here we are."

He gently took the pen from Peters hand. "How about we let Uncle Steve do that, huh? He's the artist here."

Peters eyes lit up, looking at Steve take the pen. "Are you gonna draw something?"

"Sure, buddy...Um, Peter I like your drawing but Spider-Man doesn't have wings."

Peters eyes were huge. "I should though!"