A/N: I have a bit of difficulty sometimes with A Lesson In Domesticity because I'm doing it all in Peter's perspective—it's a very limited third person. So here's a bit of what you're missing with Steve, Tony, and all of the Avengers—as well as a bit more back story regarding Peter's origins! Double brackets around several paragraphs indicate that this is material that has been copy and pasted from LID with minimal changes.

There were few things in life that Steve Rogers desired and needed to keep him happy. One: He needed love (and lovin') on a regular basis, preferably from Tony, though certainly friends were a good substitute (though, of course, not in the lovin' department). Two: He needed a stable family life, which he had with Tony and their eighteen-year-old son, Peter (well, it was mostly stable, anyway). Three: Most problematically, Steve Rogers needed the world to be safe, and for people to be good and to do the right thing. And that was the reason for most of Steve's regular grief. Well, that and Tony's rather slovenly nature in all areas of his life except work—would it kill him to pick his clothes up off the ground every now and again? But at the moment, that third need was what wasn't being fulfilled—and unsurprisingly, it was once again Tony who was falling short.

"Tony, rein back!" Steve shouted into his comm. "We can't hit him without hitting those civilians!"

"I've got the shot," Tony said back steadily. Iron Man was poised carefully in the rafters of the warehouse at one end, and the thing that they were fighting flew on some sort of air-surfboard at the other end, distracted momentarily by the Hulk. Between them were a bunch of civilians trapped in a round pen like animals. It was the most horrifying and bizarre hostage situation Steve had seen since the forties.

"If you take it you stand a 90% chance of clipping a rafter and crushing half those people to death—stand down Iron Man," Steve ordered.

"90%? JARVIS says it's more like 60%. You need some work on your math, Rogers," Tony said.

"Don't you dare take that—" But it was too late, Steve heard Tony's weapons charge and then fire—Steve ran towards the civilians, shield raised—maybe he could shelter some of them. Steve couldn't even see if Tony had hit the Green Thing on the Surfboard—he was too preoccupied by the crunching sound of a beam slowly snapping.

Steve dodged in between the land mines that had been keeping them from reaching the civilians—he wouldn't be able to let them out lest they accidentally blow themselves (and all the Avengers) sky high, but if he could just get there in time he might be able to save a few lives. He jumped into the pen and held up his shield just as a groaning sound indicated that the beam was falling. Debris came raining down, some of it bouncing off Steve's shield—but the beam never did. Steve looked up—Iron Man was holding it up, but Steve knew that even that suit couldn't hold it forever. The whole building was coming down.

"Fuck, Tony," Steve swore.

"I'd love it if you would later, darling, but now's not the time," Tony said. Steve could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to keep the beam up. Steve heard another groaning sound—the whole right half of the building was coming down, on top of the Hulk and the Green Thing, which looked like it might have been thrown from its flying surfboard. Steve couldn't worry about Bruce now—the Hulk could take a little thing like a building collapsing on top of him. But Natasha and Clint certainly couldn't.

"Hawkeye, Widow, get out of here!" Steve ordered. Natasha had been just starting to dodge her way through the minefield, but she knew an order when she heard one. She turned back. Steve didn't know where Clint was—he had been up in the rafters, but had he been in one of the ones that was now in a pile? Steve didn't think so, and he hoped he was right. "Captain America to Base, Base do you read me?"

"Copy that Agent Rogers."

"The building's infrastructure is compromised, the right half is down—we need an aircraft to pick up these civilians stat," Steve ordered. Moments later a chopper flew through the open half of the building and let down a ladder. Steve could hear a groaning sound. Steve ushered the terrified people up the ladder as quickly as he could. There were maybe fifteen of them, and when they were all clear, he jumped on the ladder, too. "GO! GO! GO!" The helicopter took off, and Iron Man dropped the beam, speeding away as quickly as possible as the rest of the building collapsed.

"Hawkeye, Black Widow, do you read me?" Captain America asked into his comm.

"We're fine," Clint replied flatly. "But barely—what the hell were you thinking, Tony?"

"I had the shot," Tony said. "And it looks like everything turned out just fine."

"Yeah? Ask Bruce how he feels in the morning," Steve snapped. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would probably spend half the night trying to dig him out—and praying that they dug out Bruce, not the other guy.

"He'll be fine," Tony said, but Steve heard the tiny waver in his voice.

"God willing," Steve muttered, climbing up the ladder all the way so that the helicopter could land on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s helicarrier. He and a few other agents helped all the people onto the larger plane and hurried them beneath the runways. Steve walked with Iron Man into the belly of the plane.

"What the hell happened out there?" Agent Fury demanded as soon as they arrived.

"We didn't pull together like a team as we should," Steve replied tiredly, taking off his helmet and running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"That isn't what it sounded like," Agent Fury snapped. "Stark, you do not ignore a direct order from your superior, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Fury," Tony said. Agent Fury stared him down, but Tony just stared back.

"Get out of that suit and get ready for debriefing," Fury said in a low voice. He walked away and started shouting orders into his comm.—get a security detail to escort the captives back home, get a detail to the press to explain that there had been a gas explosion, get a team out to Bruce to uncover him—look out for the Hulk, look out for the green thing… Steve left with Tony to get changed back into his civilian clothes. They joined Clint in the locker room. He was bruised and had tiny little cuts on his arms, probably from falling bits of the roof. Understandably, he did not look happy.

"Have you two worked out your lover's quarrel or should I take more armor into the next fight?" Clint asked grumpily.

"I'm sorry, Clint," Steve started to apologize, but Tony interrupted.

"This is not a lover's quarrel. It was bad team management. I had that shot, and if Steve had let me take it when I said so the first time I wouldn't have clipped the beam at all," Tony said stubbornly, an installation in the locker room removing his suit.

"Bad team management?" Steve asked, affronted. He stripped off his outfit, glad to be rid of it now that it was hot and covered in sweat. "There were fifteen people about to be crushed to death if you made the slightest miscalculation—and they nearly were!"

"Nearly," Tony repeated. "And it wouldn't have been a problem if you would have just trusted me in the first place—"

"Ok cupcakes, break it up," Clint said, putting his arms between them. "We've got to get to debriefing sometime this century, after all." Steve gave Tony a stern look before heading off to the showers. Tony huffed and took off his black suit—heading to the other showers. Clint rolled his eyes. "I swear you two are worse than Ana and Will." Were Steve not in such a bad mood, he would have laughed at the comparison. Clint and Natasha's six-year-old twins were absolute terrors, always fighting with each other. Peter had babysat for them once, and when he'd come home he'd looked at Tony and Steve, covered from head to toe in finger paint, silly string, and a couple of nerf darts, and said solemnly, "Never. Again." Steve knew for a fact that Clint and Natasha were constantly looking for sitters, and that more often than not the most junior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent got saddled with the job. It was considered a hazing ritual. Steve cleaned himself up and changed into a plain white t-shirt and khakis. He headed to the inner chamber and took a seat next to Clint. A few minutes later Tony waltzed in, dressed in the same suit he'd worn into work that morning.

"Can we get started then?" Steve asked Agent Fury. Agent Fury nodded. "What I'd like to know is—what was that thing?"

"We have no idea," Fury replied. "We have some suspicions, but—"

"Well, what are the theories?" asked Natasha.

"Yeah, why don't you share with the class, Fury?" Tony asked. Steve internally groaned—what was with him? Fury glowered at Tony.

"Why don't you tell me, Stark, since weapons are your area of expertise," Fury replied.

"Um, were my area of expertise. Now my specialty is in green energy—or did you miss that memo nearly twenty years ago?" Tony said. Steve balled his fist tighter on the table—why did he always have to do this? "And it's Oscorp. Obviously."

"Oscorp?" Clint asked. "Why would Oscorp kidnap a bunch of civilians and call S.H.I.E.L.D. up?"

"Why would anyone call S.H.I.E.L.D. after kidnapping a bunch of people?" Steve asked.

"Easy. We're dealing with a psychopath," Natasha answered. "Someone like Loki." The mood in the room shifted as the others tensed. Loki hadn't exactly been fun to handle.

"The reason doesn't matter. I've seen a modified version of that glider at their most recent expo," Tony said, pouring himself a drink. Steve wondered briefly how he always managed to find alcohol despite the situation or location. "And Oscorp's the only one with the capability of producing armor like that green suit—durable, flexible, completely inflammable, bulletproof…" Tony shook his head. "And the bombs…I've never seen anything like them. I'd say they're brilliant but I think horrifying is a better word."

"Well if we're dealing with something that dangerous, Stark, maybe it'd be a good idea to follow your Captain," Fury said.

"I don't listen to bad calls, chief," Tony said.

"It isn't your place to decide if a call is bad or not," Fury replied. "And we need team members on this team, Stark—I thought you knew that by now." Tony opened his mouth to speak—but Fury interrupted, holding a button on his comm..

"They've found Banner. Look, you all need to get back to New York and we need to clean up here. Go catch a plane and we'll call when we get more information." Steve got up, recognizing the dismissal. He pulled Tony out by his elbow, pulling him aside.

"What is your deal today, Tony?" Steve asked.

"What do you mean, what is my deal?" Tony asked.

"This isn't like you," Steve said. He paused and then amended, "No, that's a lie. This is exactly like you—like you twenty years ago, and that's what worries me. What happened at work? Did a deal go sour? Are you still having trouble with that breakthrough? Because you'll get it eventually, Tony. You always do."

"I'm just being myself—what, you didn't like me twenty years ago? Because—"

"That's not what I said—"

But regardless of what was said or meant, Steve and Tony ended up arguing the whole plane ride back. And the entire car ride back. In fact, they were still arguing as they walked up the steps.

[["—no, Tony, I don't care. We don't put civilians in the line of fire. Not ever," Steve said vehemently.

"Oh, give me a break Captain Hard Ass," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "What about that time in Tahoe? Or L.A.? Hell, do you even remember Geneva?"

"Those were different!" Steve insisted. "We got all the civilians out, we directed the fire away from them, and when they were in the way, we moved them. We didn't fire over their heads and hope it didn't hit—"

"Uh, we?" Tony asked sarcastically. "Who's we? Not you and me, certainly, because I can't even remember the last time you used a weapon—"

"Uh, Dads?" Peter interjected.

"I can't remember the last time I needed a weapon—"

"Dads?"

"Oh, right, because you can just rip someone's throat out with your goddamn bare hands can't you Captain Steroids—"

"DADS!" Peter yelled. Steve and Tony turned to look at their son, suddenly noticing his presence.

"Peter!" Steve said with shock. "Peter, what happened to your eye?"]]

It took a while to get Peter to answer that particular question, and even then it wasn't a real answer. Steve tried to hide his real concern as he fetched Peter a steak to put on his eye.

[["Pops," Peter groaned, "it's not 1940 anymore. I could just ice it." Steve plopped the steak over his eye.

"That'll freeze your face real fast. This'll cool it," Steve explained. He sat back down and saw Peter grimace at the feeling of raw meat on his skin. Peter glared at his dad, who had an expression of barely contained laughter.

"What? I didn't say anything. I'm not saying anything!" Tony said, but then he started laughing. He whipped out his phone.

"Daaaad," Peter said, trying to cover his face, but Tony managed to snap a picture anyway.

"Aw, our little boy, all grown up and getting beaten on. I hope you gave him as good as he got, Pete," Tony said. Peter mumbled something unintelligible, and Steve gave him a knowing, sympathetic look. He knew what it was like to be the little guy. It was highly unlikely that Peter managed to lay one on the bully.

"Anything else happen?" Steve asked.

"Well, uh," Peter started. "Uh…well, you know that Oscorp Young Scientist award? Because—"

"No," Tony said emphatically. "No, Peter Parker, you are not thinking of entering that contest. Not on my watch." Steve frowned at Tony.

"A Young Scientist contest?" Steve asked. "Well, I don't know, Tony. I know it's Oscorp, but that sounds like a great opportunity for Peter—"

"No!" Tony shouted. "No, it's not. Do you know how much environmental damage Oscorp does per day? And that's just the legal statistics—do you know how much they're covering up? I will not have my son be associated in any way with Norman Osborn." He spat the name out like it was a curse word.

"Well—" Peter tried to speak, but Tony was already in a mood, and he wasn't having any of it.

"No!" Tony said. "You don't need that scholarship. Your pops and I can pay for your education just fine. You want to go to ESU? Fine, you can go to ESU. You can go wherever you want Peter, and I'm sure any university would be thrilled to get you, but you won't get there because of Oscorp."

"Tony, you're being unreasonable. If Peter wants to make his way in the world—" Steve said, but was also interrupted.

"Then he will, but he won't do it with Oscorp at his back! Besides, you know he'd win, and what would we do then? They always want the parents to be involved with this sort of thing—what are we going to do? Hire actors? Or expose ourselves after trying to protect Peter all this time?"

"He's eighteen! We don't have to be involved with this, not publicly anyway. He wouldn't be in any danger—"

"You don't know that! And it doesn't even matter—I will not have Norman Osborn be the one to pay for my son's education, it's practically blood money—"

"Oh, Tony, stop being so overdramatic—"]]

Steve didn't even notice when Peter slipped away upstairs, but Tony must have.

"You want to let him do a competition sponsored by Oscorp? Were you even AT the debriefing today?"

"You don't know for sure that Oscorp is behind that monster," Steve said firmly. "Anyone could have stolen that equipment—"

"In a highly secure facility like Oscorp?" Tony snorted. "Do you even realize how unlikely that is? How ridiculous a suggestion—"

"You don't know!"

"They haven't reported a break-in—"

"That you're aware of! You don't know everything, Tony, and I for one think it would be good for Peter to be able to prove himself in any way he wants to," Steve said.

"Peter is perfect, he doesn't need to prove himself—"

"Not to us, maybe, but did you ever wonder if maybe he needs to prove that to himself?" Steve asked. Tony shut up and just glowered. Steve sighed. "Let's just go to bed, Tony. It's been a long day."

"At least that I can agree with," Tony said, taking Steve's hand in his. Steve smiled gently at the contact. They headed up the stairs together and into their bedroom. Steve changed into his pajamas—just switching into sweatpants—while Tony did the same.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Steve asked, slipping beneath the covers. Tony joined him.

"Oh, just a little corporate espionage. I figured I'd take Eve, and—" Steve groaned.

"Do you have to take Eve?" he asked. Tony frowned.

"What's wrong with Eve?"

"There's nothing wrong with Eve, but you were ogling her the entire time Clint and Natasha skyped her and the kids—"

"I was not ogling her!"

"You were! You were ogling Eve's breasts!"

"In my defense, her shirt was extremely low cut—"

"Tony!"

"I wasn't ogling her, not really, Steve, I'm joking—"

"She's too junior, anyway, why would you trust her with something like that?"

"Because she's new—there's no way Oscorp can know she's a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—"

"They shouldn't know any of the agents are with S.H.I.E.L.D.—admit it, you just want to see if she has the butt to match—"

"Oh, and you're accusing me of ogling! Ha! Clearly you sneaked a peek—"

"It was hard not to notice! But I don't ogle—"

"Oh, you're not as squeaky clean as you like to think, Captain—"

"Cleaner than you—"

"I'm not so sure your buddies from the forties would agree considering whose bed you're sleeping in—" Steve got up as something inside him snapped. He grabbed his pillow and got out of bed. "—where are you going, Steve?"

"I'm sleeping downstairs."

"Oh, come on, don't be like that—"

"Good night, Tony." Steve left the bedroom.

"FINE," Tony shouted

"FINE!" Steve shouted back. He went into the living room and plopped down on the couch. He turned over uncomfortably, already wishing he was back in bed, with Tony in his arms—but Tony was being a jerk. He thought uncomfortably of Bucky—what would he have said about his relationship with Tony? How would he have explained to him that he'd married a man? And—God, what would Howard have thought? Steve turned over again and drew up his blankets tightly. These were things he didn't like to think about too much, questions he could never answer, parts of himself that he could never reconcile with others…

Steve reached out for Peter's notebook, which he'd left on the coffee table. He took up a pencil and started to sketch, feeling like Tony was much further away than just upstairs.

Tony woke up, feeling oddly cold. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as he remembered where Steve had gone. Downstairs. Tony sighed and threw off his blankets. He hadn't slept well. Not that he ever did, but he'd been tossing and turning all night. He glanced at the clock—it was seven in the morning, much earlier than he liked to be up, but then, he'd gone to sleep earlier than usual. He yawned and headed to the kitchen—he could smell pancakes and bacon. Undoubtedly Steve was cooking. He wandered into the kitchen.

"Pops," he heard his son groan. His husband chuckled.

[["Well you two have been working hard for such an ungodly hour," Tony said.

"Tony, it's seven in the morning," Steve said, rolling his eyes. He got up and grabbed a couple of mugs from the cabinet. Tony plopped in a chair at the kitchen table.

"Exactly," he said. He took a fork and put two big pancakes onto Peter's plate before grabbing a couple for himself. Steve set down a mug of coffee in front of Tony. Steve gave Tony a look—a look that Tony knew meant "Let's forget about yesterday." Tony returned the look. It meant that all was forgiven—on both sides—and that nothing more would be said about it. How, Tony wondered, how had he ever gotten so lucky? Tony took the mug. Peter took a bite of his pancakes. "So. What's the plan for today?"

"You're going to work," Steve said. "Peter's going to school, and then the library for a bit. And I'm—I don't know. Cleaning the house and checking in at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters to check the status on the—" He looked at Peter, then back to Tony. "—the situation." Tony nodded.

"So what are you really doing Peter?" Tony asked. Peter nearly choked on his pancakes.

"W-what?" he asked.

"What is it? A party? With alcohol and half naked girls? Drugs? Is Uncle Bruce giving you his ganja?" Tony said.

"Uncle Bruce does weed?" Peter asked.

"No, your Dad just likes to pretend that he does," Steve said, an amused grin on his face. Tony took a big bite of pancake and then swallowed.

"I mean the library—really? What kind of kid did we raise, Steve?" Tony asked. Steve chuckled and shook his head.

"A good one, the last time I checked," he said. Tony shook his head.

"I knew signing him up for the boy scouts was a bad idea. But you just looked so cute in that tight little scout leader uniform—"

"Oh God, ok slowly going into territory that will destroy my sanity and my childhood at the same time, dads," Peter said quickly.

"Then what are you still doing here? Don't you have a bus to catch?" Tony asked. Peter looked at his watch. He shoveled the last bit of pancake into his mouth and ran to the living room to pick up his backpack and camera.

"Have a good day, son!" Tony and Steve said at the same time, just as Peter ran out the front door.]]

"You still planning to spy on Oscorp today?" Steve asked.

"I'll just be sending Eve over to get a job. Rhonda Martin is her new pseudonym. She'll be Osborn's temp secretary," Tony said. He took a sip of coffee.

"How did you know Osborn needed a temp?" Steve asked.

"Because last night his secretary won a surprise trip to the Cayman Islands," Tony said with a grin. Steve laughed.

"Subtle," he said sarcastically.

"Isn't it though?" Tony asked breezily.

"So," Steve said, getting up and putting his—and Peter's—dishes in the dishwasher, "what will you be doing all day?"

"Oh, I need to work on that…thing…I've been working on," Tony said vaguely.

"Yeah, what is that thing, anyway? You've never told me," Steve said, closing the washer.

"Well, it's an internalized compressor that will hopefully act as a coolant—"

"I get it. That's code for, 'it's techie, you won't understand'," Steve said with a laugh. Tony smiled back at him, feeling slightly guilty. It was so easy to lie to Steve about technology. He didn't know Tony was just spitting out nonsense.

"Well," Tony said, "you're not wrong." He got up and put his own dishes away. When he finished, Steve put his arms around Tony's waist from behind him. He kissed his neck.

"I missed you last night," Steve murmured.

"I missed you, too," Tony said, turning in his arms and kissing him deeply. Steve curled his hands in Tony's hair and drew him closer, and for one glorious hour they forgot anyone or anything else ever existed. But all good things must come to an end, and so eventually Tony showered and got dressed for work. He headed out the door, sent off with a kiss from his husband, but he didn't go to work. He had somewhere else to stop off, first.

He drove outside the city limits and kept driving for a couple of hours. The scenery changed from suburbs to farmland and back to suburbs again. Tony drove up to a gaited neighborhood and punched in the pass code. He drove through until he reached a beautiful house overlooking a lake. He parked in the driveway and took off his sunglasses. He walked up to the door and rang the doorbell.

Moments later, a beautiful woman opened the door. She had wavy, dark brown hair, porcelain skin, and ruby red lips. She could have been a model, Tony reflected. In fact, he'd told her so before. She smiled wryly at him.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Tony," she said. "Come in." She stood aside and Tony walked in. She shut—and locked—the door behind them.