Tony Stark had never been so furious in his entire life. Well, no, that was a lie. But this had to rank in the top 20. He should have seen it. He should have seen it, but he would never have suspected Peter of something so nefarious—God, had he raised a supervillain or something?

He was having JARVIS run scans on himself now, Jesus, to try to find whatever the hell Peter had been hiding. And so, when he heard the elevator ding, he knew who it was, and the rational part of his brain was already gone. He folded his arms and watched the elevator doors as they opened. His son looked surprised. Surprised! He had the nerve to look surprised as if he didn't know perfectly well what he'd done.

"Uh, hi?" Peter said. "I told you I was going out—or, well, I tried, you weren't around, I told JARVIS to—"

"You. Installed. Override codes," Tony said.

"Oh," Peter said. He sounded small. "Right."

"You installed override codes on JARVIS. On my AI. On JARVIS!" Tony said, snarling at the end. Maybe it was overkill, but he wasn't thinking straight.

"I, yeah, I did," Peter said tiredly.

"I don't know what all you've been hiding from me Peter James Stark, but believe me I will find out," Tony said, his tone threatening.

"I don't want to do this tonight—" Peter started, but it only pissed Tony off even more.

"Well too fucking bad," Tony shouted. "I thought we weren't going to do this again, the lying, the covering shit up, but obviously I was a fucking moron to think that my teenage son would be honest with me—"

"Dad, come on, I didn't do anything not really—"

"Oh, you didn't do anything? That's why you felt compelled to install override codes on my AI? Do you know how dangerous something like that could be, if they got in the wrong hands?"

"I'm the only one who knows them, no one could hack it, not even you knew about it—"

"JARVIS knows it!" Tony yelled. "JARVIS knew it well enough to give it to your Pops!"

"But, JARVIS would never put you or me or anyone in danger—"

"JARVIS IS A COMPUTER, PETER!" Tony roared. "Do you not understand what that MEANS? He's an AI, artificial intelligence. He's safe, but he's not impervious, not perfect, do you have any idea what kind of damage you could have caused? What damage that, for all I know, has already been done? And not to mention that, when the hell did you think it was a good idea to touch my stuff?"

Peter flinched at that last one. And then he just walked away. He walked back to his room, Tony shouting after him.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! WE'RE HAVING THIS DISCUSSION WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT PETER JAMES STARK! DON'T YOU DARE CLOSE THAT DOOR—" Tony knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was not grade A parenting technique. But that same part of his mind also just laughed—since when had Tony been a good parent, anyway?

Peter shut and locked the door behind him.

"—YOU OPEN THAT DOOR RIGHT NOW, PETER, I'M NOT KIDDING, I'LL GET JARVIS TO OPEN THAT DOOR—" If Tony had been a good parent, Peter wouldn't have endangered himself and Tony and Stark Industries and the Avengers and JARVIS, for the love of God, by installing override codes in JARVIS. If Tony had been a good parent, Peter wouldn't have locked that door.

Peter opened the door and walked out again, passing Tony. Tony felt his blood boil.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tony asked dangerously.

"I'm going out," Peter said calmly.

"No, you aren't," Tony said.

"Yes, I am," Peter said, his eyes defiant. "Stop the elevator, I'll take the stairs. Lock the doors—well I figured out how to install override codes once, I'm pretty sure I can figure it out again." Tony just stared at his son. Was this really Peter? Was Peter saying this? How fucking dare he—Peter opened the elevator door and walked inside. The doors shut behind him and Tony had no idea what to do.

What had his father done every time Tony had pulled the kind of shit Peter was pulling now?

Tony nearly slapped himself. If he was looking to his dad for parenting advice, something was seriously wrong with this picture. He took a calming breath and counted to ten, advice Natasha had given him once upon a time.

One, Two, Three, Four—

No, this was bullshit. He grabbed his phone and dialed Steve. The phone rang but he didn't pick up.

"Hey, Steve, look, I kind of flipped out on Peter about the whole override codes thing—he completely deserved it, but he left the Tower. I think he'll head over to you so just—He's in trouble, Steve, he put override codes into JARVIS, I don't think I have to tell you how dangerous that is, not to mention what HE might have been doing out from underneath JARVIS all-seeing-eyes. So I just wanted to give you a heads up about all that. Bye," Tony said, then hung up the phone. Hopefully Steve would get the message soon, preferably before Peter got there. Tony headed back over to the main interface for JARVIS.

"Anything unusual, JARVIS?" Tony asked.

"Nothing yet, sir," JARVIS said. "All illicit footage seems to be during testing periods. Young Master Stark wanted to be certain the codes would function correctly. I must say, it's strange watching these videos and not being capable of finding duplicates in my main memory banks."

"Yeah, he was basically drugging you," Tony grumbled. "I can't believe him."

"I do not think Young Master Stark intended any ill will towards me, Master Stark," JARVIS said.

"He may not have intended it but it happened anyway," Tony said. "I don't like it. On a lot of levels. Just keep running through those files. Let me know when you find something weird."

"There is a rather lot of footage. This could take quite some time," JARVIS replied.

"Do it as fast as you can," Tony said. He walked over to the bar, poured himself a bourbon. Peter wasn't coming back tonight, after all, and he could really use a stiff drink. He'd only taken a few gulps when his cell rang.

"Steve?" he asked.

"Hey, Tony," Steve replied on the other end. He sounded troubled. But then, he sounded troubled whenever they spoke now. "I just got out of the shower. Peter's not here. Not yet anyway. I'll keep you posted."

"I'll give Bruce a call, he might have headed over there," Tony said, unconcerned.

But when he called Bruce, Bruce had no idea where he was. Tony threw back the rest of his bourbon and waited, going through files with JARVIS, working on his latest designs—an hour went by, but neither Steve nor Bruce had called.

"Shit," Tony swore. He called Steve. "No luck?"

"None," Steve said. He sounded worried now. "Let's—let's not assume anything but—I'm betting he's with one of his friends. Do we have contact info for any of them?"

"No," Tony said with a sigh. "And I can't ask the school. Confidentiality agreements and all that. Shit."

"Let's not worry until the morning. We'll give Peter some time to cool off and calm down," Steve said.

"All right," Tony said. They hung up.

Tony didn't sleep at all. But then, that was par for the course these days.

Steve was awake all night. All he could think was kidnapped. Or worse. He remembered waiting with Tony in the hospital one day—was it just a year ago?—praying that Peter would pull through after being shot. He'd only been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Peter had been through so much in his life. Most of it was their fault, the accident of his birth. He just happened to have two superheroes for parents. Trouble came with the territory, and Steve hated that the trouble had occasionally extended to him. Natasha and Clint's kids had discreet SHIELD agents guarding them 24/7 (which was different from babysitting, of course, which they would never do, knowing what terrors those twins were), and Steve was beginning to wonder whether or not the same would be good for Peter. If he was still—no, that type of thinking didn't bear expanding upon. He was fine. Peter was fine.

Steve chanted that over and over again but it didn't make it any more real. There were no messages on his phone. He'd texted Peter several times through the night, as surely Tony had, and maybe Bruce, but there was no answer.

Finally at five in the morning, Tony called.

"I wrestled with the ethics for about two minutes once my brain started working again but then I decided I didn't care. It was driving me crazy. I traced Peter's phone—he's with Gwen," Tony said. Steve breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Good. Great. JARVIS done sorting through those files yet?" Steve asked.

"Not yet. I'll call again when I know something," Tony said, and then hung up. Steve sighed. It was the most he'd spoken to his husband in eight months. The knowledge made his heart physically ache. How had he let it go this far? How had he let it get this bad? How had he fucked things up so thoroughly? Because of course, Steve had no doubt that this was his fault. He'd known that from the start. What he didn't know was how to fix it.

Knowing that Peter was safe, but troubled by his thoughts, Steve settled into an uneasy sleep. He probably wouldn't have slept for long on his own anyway, but he was rudely awakened by his comm. on the bedside table. An alarm went off to indicate someone had turned theirs on. Steve shook off all grogginess from sleep and stuck the device in his ear.

"Green Meanie in Brooklyn," Spider-Man said, breathless. "I'm still recovering from an injury I could use some help, I think three or four civilians are already down—I'm a block away from George's Café—" Spider-Man moaned in pain, and Steve felt his stomach flip. He'd seen that wound from earlier. He could imagine what was happening to it just now. Steve changed into his costume in two seconds flat and grabbed his shield.

"Does anybody copy?" Spider-Man asked desperately. Steve could hear screams in the background.

"Captain America online—Avengers, assemble—Spider-Man just hang in there as long as you can, keep him away from civilians, I'll be there in one minute," the Captain said, running out the door to his apartment. George's Café was close, but even with his running abilities it would take a minute or two to get there.

"I think hanging in here is kind of my only option right now," Spider-Man replied in a strained voice.

It didn't take long for Steve to reach George's café, and from there he only had to go against the crowd of people running away. He rushed through the mob until he could hear the sound of the glider, and then he saw them, fighting up in the sky, Spider-Man swinging off the sides of the buildings. If they were fighting all the way up there, the Captain thought with despair, there would be very little he could do. But just then, Spider-Man twisted to avoid blades jutting out from the Goblin's glider, and the Goblin himself hit him full on with his body, knocking him out of the sky. He fell on top of a car with a loud crash as the car's alarm went off.

The Goblin landed, picking up his glider, and started towards Spider-Man. Now was his chance.

"Why don't you bring the party to me, Goblin?" Steve called out, throwing his shield. The Goblin turned his head, only to get hit full in the face by the trusty weapon before it turned back around to return to the Captain. The Goblin shook it off, and kept on going towards Spider-Man, towards the kid. Steve wondered if the kid was all right. He wasn't moving on top of that car. Steve doubted that those stitches had held up, meaning he was probably bleeding pretty severely, if he was still alive. The Captain shook off those thoughts and instead rushed right at the Goblin, engaging in hand-to-hand.

The Goblin was surprisingly swift, surprisingly strong. If the Goblin was human under that armor, he had to have a variant of the Super Soldier Serum, Steve knew. The Captain tried to put the Goblin down, but the slippery bugger always managed to get back up—and head towards Peter. Steve quickly glanced behind him—the kid had gotten up. So, he was alive. But Steve could already see the blood seeping through the gash in his not-yet-repaired costume.

"Spider-Man, go, just get out of here!" the Captain ordered through the comm.

"Can't," Spider-Man said in barely more than a whisper. Winded, Steve thought, or maybe worse, maybe had a punctured lung. "My mother—he knows—who I am—he'll kill her—have to stop him—" Spider-Man slowly approached a wall and climbed up. As the Captain and the Goblin fought, Spider-Man reached out an arm, spraying the Goblin in the face with web. The Goblin just ripped it off, not even missing a beat, and made a beeline for Spider-Man. Spider-Man just waited, and waited, and waited until he was almost on him, and then he just dropped to the ground and the Goblin smashed into the wall above him like something out of a cartoon.

A black van pulled up and out came Hawkeye and Black Widow. Lightning flashed from above and Thor appeared just as the Goblin extracted himself from the wall and lunged at the grounded Spider-Man. Thor knocked him off his glider with his hammer and sent him flying back several hundred feet, but even with that blow the glider still caught him.

"What took you all so long?" the Captain joked.

"We don't all live in Brooklyn," Widow replied. "What's the Goblin's game?"

"He's after Spider-Man—and apparently he knows more than S.H.I.E.L.D. because he knows the kid's identity—and that of his mother," the Captain replied as the Goblin came back around, dueling it out with Thor. Spider-Man just sunk to the sidewalk, sitting down. The kid was in bad shape, the Captain knew that.

"We have to catch him," Spider-Man said into his comm. "He'll kill her—it'll be my fault—I can't—"

"We'll get him, Spider-Man," the Captain assured him. "Widow, Hawkeye, get up high, this guy's not one for the ground. Hawkeye, try to take out that glider with one of your special arrows. I'll stay on the ground and look out for the kid."

Before the Captain knew that he was doing it, Spider-Man forced himself to his feet and shot off web to the nearest building, pulling himself back into the air.

"Spider-Man! Where do you think you're going?" the Captain demanded.

"I'm going to end this," Spider-Man replied.

"Get back down here right now!" the Captain ordered. "Spider-Man! That's not a request that's an order! Spider-Man! Get back here!"

But Spider-Man didn't listen to the Captain's protests. He flew through the air towards Thor and the Goblin, and, once he was close enough, swung in a circle around them.

"Hey Goblin! It's me you want right? I'll give you a fair chance, just you and me, come on!" Spider-Man said, before swinging away, flying as far and fast away from the Avengers as he could. Of course, Thor could follow with relative ease, but the baffled Asgardian appeared to be waiting for orders.

"THOR! GET AFTER HIM!" the Captain ordered. He felt cold. That kid was going to get himself killed. And stuck on the ground, with only one eye in the sky, there was almost nothing he could do about it.

He ran after them anyway.

"Sir, I have completed analysis of the missing footage," JARVIS spoke, waking Tony from his uneasy slumber. Tony rubbed his eyes.

"Good. Great. Hit me. What's the little monster been up to?" Tony asked. JARVIS commandeered a projector. It showed Peter entering the workshop. It was dated around nine months ago, before they had moved in. Tony squinted. Peter was looking at the underarmor for the Iron Man suit.

"JARVIS, is there any extra material left over from the underarmor?" onscreen Peter asked.

"Yes, Master Peter," recorded JARVIS said. The top steel drawer opened. "All available scraps are located in the top drawer." Onscreen Peter straightened up and looked through the drawer. He pulled out some strips of black, swatches of blue, and a whole bolt of red.

"Well, I guess that decides my color scheme," onscreen Peter said. Tony felt his blood run cold. He didn't need to see the rest of the footage. Events from the last nine months were clicking into place in that genius brain of Tony's, that genius brain that hadn't, for nine months, realized that his own son was Spider-Man.

Tony made a grab for his comm., the one he'd kept from the Avengers. It was the only sure-fire way to get hold of Steve, more certain than his cell phone. He popped it in his ear and turned it on.

"Captain America online—Avengers, assemble—Spider-Man just hang in there as long as you can, keep him away from civilians, I'll be there in one minute," the Captain said.

"I think hanging in here is kind of my only option right now," Spider-Man replied in a strained voice. Tony's heart leapt in panic. They were in the middle of serious trouble, and Spider-Man, Peter, was caught right in the middle.

The suit was on Tony an instant later, and he was out of the tower, rocketing through the sky towards Brooklyn.

The Captain was running towards the building as fast as he possibly could. He could see the Goblin on a rooftop, but he couldn't see Spider-Man. Off in the distance, though, there was something in the sky—something the Captain hadn't seen in a long time.

"Iron Man?" Steve asked in astonishment. "What are you doing—" Tony cut him off.

"PETER!" Iron Man shouted through the comm. system. "IT'S PETER, SPIDER-MAN IS PETER!"

Iron Man flew around and grabbed Steve hard around the waist to Steve's surprise, and together the flew to the rooftop. Steve saw the situation—Peter, somehow paralyzed, the Goblin behind him, holding him up, as the Goblin's glider's blades slid out, ready to fly. Steve leapt out of Iron Man's arms, landing on the roof with a thud. He shoved Peter out of the way just in time—the Goblin's glider slammed into the Goblin, slicing through his armor, half a second later.

Steve picked up his son, just as Iron Man landed in his field of vision. Slowly regaining his mobility, Spider-Man, Peter?, managed to turn his head and take in the scene—the Goblin was impaled on his own glider. Iron Man walked over and ripped off the Goblin's mask.

Underneath the mask was Norman Osborn.

"Don't," he said, pitifully. "Don't tell…"

"I think your identity's pretty well and told, Osborn," Iron Man said.

"Don't tell Harry," Osborn whispered, and his eyes weren't on Iron Man. "Peter, don't tell Harry…" Steve was pretty sure that Iron Man was going to blast the Goblin off the roof just for addressing his son, but then the Goblin exhaled and didn't inhale again.

Steve removed his own mask, looking down at Spider-Man with horror. The kid was still bleeding. His kid? Iron Man lifted his own faceplate, and beneath it, Tony looked at Spider-Man with the same fear. Slowly, gently, Steve peeled the mask off of Spider-Man's face. His son, battered, exhausted, was behind it. Steve couldn't help his sharp intake of breath.

"My God," Steve said, only half aware he'd said it.

"Peter, I know what he used, don't struggle, just breathe as best you can, it'll wear off in a minute," Tony said.

"We need—S.H.I.E.L.D. I need a med evac three minutes ago, Spider-Man, Peter, has been grievously injured—"

"We're already on it, Captain," Clint assured him through the comm.

Steve heard Peter breathed a sigh of relief, before he promptly went limp. Steve's heart stopped for a moment.

"Peter?" he asked in a very small voice. "Son? Peter?" Steve couldn't breathe. Peter's face had drained of blood. He was so, so pale. Tony, however had more presence of mind. He had removed a gauntlet and stuck two fingers to Peter's neck—looking for a pulse. Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

"He's just passed out," he said. Steve gained his presence of mind again.

"He's out. We've got severe blood loss, a possible punctured lung, more than one broken rib if I had to guess, and a reopened injury from yesterday," Steve said into his comm, struggling to stay clinical about it. It was nearly impossible. He held his broken, bleeding son in his arms.

Neither he nor Tony said anything as the evac arrived and they loaded Peter into the helicopter. They said nothing on the ride to the hospital as EMTs looked after him, offering them no assurances. They said nothing as they waited outside surgery, hoping desperately that everything would be fine. They didn't say anything until a doctor assured them he would be. Steve could have cried from relief. He nearly did. He held his estranged husband tightly as the two of them spoke without words.

He's ok. He's ok. He's ok.

Peter was wheeled out of surgery and into a private room. Steve and Tony sat beside each other on a couch in the room as they watched their boy, hooked up to machines and an IV, sleep. Steve was glad that Tony did not protest when he took his hand. Steve wouldn't have been able to handle the stress of bearing this without Tony.

Peter groaned. Steve and Tony leapt up from the couch, instantly at his side.

"Peter?" their two voices asked at once. Peter's eyes fluttered open He looked around with a hazy sort of confusion apparent on his face. Steve held his hand.

"Avenger-ing is hard," Peter mumbled. His fathers breathed sighs of relief.

"You really scared us there, Peter," Steve said. "When you passed out, I thought—" Steve stopped, unable to continue and shook his head. "We're glad you're awake."

"I'm not, everything hurts," Peter complained hoarsely. Steve wordlessly held out a glass of water with a straw, and Peter took a few sips.

"You're on some pain medication, but the doctors can up the dosage if you need it. Do you want us to call in a nurse?" Steve asked. Peter shook his head, but winced at the small action. Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony—"

"Already called them," Tony replied. A nurse came in a moment later, did something to the IV, and then left. They sat in silence together until Peter's pain became more bearable.

"I guess we—have to talk," Peter said reluctantly. Steve just rubbed his thumb in soothing circles over the back of Peter's hand.

"We don't need to now if you don't want to, Peter," he said kindly. "You need your rest."

"No I—I'd rather get it over with," Peter said. "I'm sorry. I know I should have told you, when it happened—"

"Why don't we just start there, Peter," Tony said softly. "How did this happen, and when?"

So Peter started from the beginning. He told them how he'd won Oscorp's Young Scientist award entirely unintentionally, how he'd gone to the facility to tell Norman Osborn that he couldn't accept, knowing how Tony would react if he found out. He told them how a spider got caught in a radioactive ray, how it fell and bit him on the hand, how that was the 'allergic reaction' he'd had all those months ago. He told them how he'd wanted to say something, but they were fighting, and it was just never a good time. He told them how he'd mostly joined the Avengers by accident, hearing their waves over his comm. He told them how, after a while, he was afraid to tell them the truth for having lied to them in the first place. Peter finished with how he'd gone to meet Rebecca, and it had turned out to be a trap.

There was silence for a minute. Then, Steve leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"You're really not the one who should be apologizing, Peter," he said. He nearly choked on the words. He could barely think through one, all-consuming thought: You are horrible parents. "Get some sleep, you incredible kid."

"Not incredible," Tony disagreed, ruffling Peter's hair. "Amazing. We—Peter your Pops and I—God we're so sorry you felt this way, felt like you couldn't tell us about this. And we'll…we can do better."

"We haven't been much of a family these past nine months," Steve agreed. "But I think—I think we've all learned our lesson. We'll do better for you, Peter. We promise."

Peter made them promise not to make the Green Goblin's identity into public knowledge. They agreed, but only because Peter begged, and only because Norman Osborn's judgment had obviously been impaired by the botched super soldier serum his company had created. After also demanding to attend the press conference that would take place in just a few hours, Peter went to sleep. Steve and Tony returned to their vigil on the couch.

"I don't think there are words enough in the English language," Steve said softly, "to describe how stupid and selfish we've been." Tony just nodded his agreement. Steve took his hand again.

He had to fix this. He had to fix this in any way that he could. He was, however, at a loss as to how. Nothing had changed. Their problems were still there.

But, that wasn't entirely true. Something had changed. Peter had taken up the family business. Peter had gained superpowers, that left him far less vulnerable.

Peter was no longer an excuse.

And Steve no longer wanted any excuses.

Steve hated press conferences, and he hated that this one had to happen so soon after Peter's surgery. Coulson had to wheel him to it, for God's sake. But just because they were dealing with a personal crisis didn't mean the world would wait for an explanation, especially since they had no idea what that personal crisis could possibly be. So Tony put on his best suit, and Steve donned his old military uniform, and he stood at the podium, the statement SHIELD had written for him on the notecards in his hands. Steve cleared his throat and the room quieted.

"We are here today to inform the public that the disturbance this morning in Brooklyn was caused by the Green Goblin, whose threat has been hanging over this city for the past nine months. Today, he was finally apprehended. It was discovered that he was a rogue experiment of Oscorp, the result of a super soldier serum gone horribly wrong.

"The Green Goblin was killed in the fighting, and the public may rest easy in the knowledge that he will never again fly through our skies. But our hearts go out to the victims of the attack, four civilians who are injured but are, we are assured, recovering well in the hospital.

"As for the Avengers in general news, we welcome back Mr. Tony Stark into our ranks, and would like to officially announce that the vigilante Spider-Man is being absorbed into our team as well, though doubtless many of you have already seen him on our team these past few months." Steve abruptly stopped. He looked up from his notes, out into the sea of reporters, who waited, expectantly.

No more excuses. It was now or never. The official statement was almost finished anyway. It was time to go off script.

"We…uh, we don't have much else to report, to be honest with you. But I do, if we are being honest. You know this is, this is more Tony's thing, getting up in front of the press and talking, frankly, I avoid it when I can. And this, throwing away the notes, that uh, that's definitely more Tony's thing." Steve could hear the whispers and the murmurs of the confused audience. The Captain had never gone off script before. More cameras were flashing, and the press looked like they'd woken up some. Steve took a deep breath.

"Of course, none of you would know that, because, you know plenty about Captain America—and he does stand up and make speeches all the time—but you don't know much about Steve Rogers and, frankly, that's always suited me just fine. I like my privacy. But uh, I guess there's a big difference between privacy and honesty, between being close-lipped and hiding something.

"I've always done what I thought was best for the team, for this nation, for the world. And for a long time that's meant hiding a big part of myself because I wasn't sure the world was ready to know, if America could handle it. But I've realized over the past few months and especially through the events of today that America will just…just have to be because I won't let my fear tear my family apart. And yes, I did say family."

Cameras were going crazy. Steve was just glad that Coulson hadn't made a move to stop him yet. Steve turned just ever so slightly, taking Tony's hand in his and bringing him a little more forward. He could see the utterly stunned expression on his husband's face. It wasn't often that he managed to surprise Tony Stark.

"Truth of it is, folks, Tony Stark and I have been together for twenty years, and married for fifteen. We've got a wonderful son, Peter—he's not feeling too well today, but he's here, Pete why don't you wave and say hi?" Peter, from his wheelchair in the audience, managed a small smile and held his hand up in a tiny wave. A barrage of cameras turned in his direction. Steve still wished he could leave Peter out of the spotlight, but there was no way the reporters wouldn't have found him after this announcement, anyway.

"I love my family, and I'm not going to let anything stand in the way of that. Not even the whole of America. Not even the whole of the world. And uh, that, well, that really is all we have for you today." The instant Steve finished the press were all screaming over one another, clamoring for questions. Steve didn't answer them. Tony smiled at Steve. Steve smiled back. Tony leaned in for a kiss, and Steve obliged him. They shared a chaste, quick kiss that for sure would end up on youtube in two minutes flat and grace the headlines tonight, before they walked off stage, hand in hand, and came for Peter. Steve took his wheelchair. Coulson looked at Steve. Steve just shrugged and smiled, and wheeled Peter down the hall, back towards his room, and as soon as they were away from the press, Tony burst out.

"Gelato!" he said. "No, better, ice cream cake. Who wants ice cream cake, I'm craving ice cream cake—"

"Tony, I don't think Peter's even had a proper meal today—"

"Ok, fine, I'll special order some crickets—"

"Dad!"

"—and then ice cream cake."

"Make it hamburgers," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"Burger King!" Peter added.

"Oh, and the ice cream cake from Friendly's," Steve finished.

"No, Coldstone!"

"What?" Steve asked. "Coldstone? Coldstone? Friendly's is an American classic. It's as old as me. I went to Friendly's as a kid!"

"Older does not mean better."

"How are you my son? First no coca cola, then no Friendly's?"

"I don't know what you two are arguing about, we're getting Ben and Jerry's," Tony said.

Steve and Peter groaned, and the whole little family continued to argue about ice cream cake the whole way back to Peter's room. Steve couldn't help but feel elated. Everything was back to normal. He looked at his son, radiant despite his injuries, and at his husband, who looked happier than Steve had seen him in twenty years.

No, things weren't back to normal at all.

Things were better than normal.

They slept on the couch that night in the hospital. Tony was curled up half beside, half on top of Steve, and Steve held his arms tightly around Tony. He kissed him on the forehead and Tony hummed with pleasure.

"Steve?" he said quietly.

"Mm?"

"I love you," Tony said. Steve kissed him on the lips for a long moment.

"You know I love you too," he said. Tony nodded.

"Let's never do that again."

"What?"

"Fight. Like that. Shut each other out. Separate."

"Never," Steve agreed. They lay together in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"I don't have my ring on," Tony said. He moved a bit, then removed a chain from his neck, off of which dangled his wedding ring. Steve smiled sheepishly.

"Great minds think alike," Steve replied, drawing out his own.

"Well, great mind and one half-way decent one," Tony corrected. Steve shoved him lightly. Tony chuckled. Tony removed the chain from his ring, as Steve did the same, but before Steve returned the ring to his finger, Tony stopped him.

"Wait," he said. "Wait. We should say something."

"Like what?" Steve asked.

"I don't know, this just seems like a momentous occasion and something should be said to commemorate it," Tony insisted. Steve laughed very quietly, always conscious of Peter's quiet, steady breathing on the other side of the hospital room.

"You want to renew our vows?" Steve asked.

"Yes! Yes, something like that," Tony said. Steve shrugged, putting his ring back on the chain.

"All right. We'll make arrangements tomorrow—"

"No, no, let's just do it here. Now. Together. Just us," Tony said. Steve smiled.

"So impatient," he admonished. He took Tony's ring, and then he took his hand. "I promise to love you always. I promise to never be ashamed or fearful of that love. I promise to listen more. And above all, I promise to never walk out again, even if you're shoving me out the door." He slipped the ring back on Tony's finger.

"Ditto," Tony said with a grin, and slipped Steve's ring back onto his finger.

"Ditto? Ton-y," Steve complained, but then his husband was kissing him fiercely, holding him tightly, and nothing else mattered.

Certain other aspects of their reunion would have to wait until they were home. In fact, Steve wasn't even sure where home was anymore—was it Stark Tower? Was it the house in Brooklyn Steve knew full well Tony had never sold? Or was it somewhere else entirely?

Well, Steve supposed it didn't matter. Because home was not a place. Steve had been away from home for a very, very long time. But now he had, they all had, finally returned.

They were home.