Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Requested by Vanessa Masters and WickedPinapple on FanFiction

Thank you to my beta, WithinHerHeart :)

Chapter One

Peter tapped his foot impatiently and let out a loud huff. "Come on dads," he couldn't keep the whine out of his voice, "We've been here for hours already, can't we just go home?"

Steve and Tony, who had been sparring in the boxing ring for about an hour and a half now, paused at their son's voice, inclining their heads in sync towards him.

With the gym at the Avengers' Mansion currently under construction, after Dad lost control of another of his science projects and had accidently wrecked the entire east side of the building, the Avengers had been taking advantage of S.H.I.E.L.D's resources. Peter knew his family, especially his Papa, were obsessed with work outs – it kind of came with the job, after all – but come on, three hours training in one afternoon is more than a little excessive. He'd come into the building straight from school, as he had been instructed that morning, and after he had completely all his homework for the next two weeks, there was only so long he could count the tiles on the ceiling (4567 tiles, if you were wondering).

Steve blew the damp strands of hair from his forehead with a heavy breath, and the smile that played on his lips clearly said he was enjoying himself too much to stop anytime soon. "Another 15 minutes, I promise," he answered. He gave his husband a smug look, "your dad still has to, uh, what did you say again Tony, that you'd wipe the floor with me?"

Tony scowled around the rim of his water bottle as he drank heavily, eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, "laugh it up Capiscle. Eventually, you will tire out, and I'll be there to get you."

"Yeah, but you'd be on the floor before I even start to lag," Steve teased.

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm going for a walk…"

Pushing himself off the bench that was positioned along the left side of the room, he followed the path of the hallways. They were basically empty, but it was common at this time of night – Uncle Phil had told him that, unless on missions, field agents had usually left for home by five or, like him, had mountains of paperwork to complete and so were held up in their offices.

Speaking of Uncle Phil, maybe he has something I can do – anything but watch dad and papa flirt in a boxing ring…

"Now you, I've never seen before…"

Peter tensed at the teasing voice, his steps faltering. He glanced around searchingly, his body automatically drifting into the defensive stance that Aunt Tasha had taught him years back. From the rafters, a body swung down and landed silently in front of him, crouched. He straightened up slowly, giving Peter the chance to analyse him closely.

The man – and he was definitely a man – was a few inches taller than him. He was bulky, not as big as Uncle Thor or Papa, but there was certainly some weight and muscle in his board shoulders and arms. He had a young face, with brown eyes that were trained on him intensely, green flecks caught in the overhead florescent lights; and mousy brown hair, maybe a little lighter than his own, curled around his ears, one strand flopping attractively over his forehead. Pink lips were stretched into a smirk. Over all, he'd probably be a really attractive man if he wasn't for that cocky look on his face, something that dimmed it only slightly. Strong arms were folded across his wide chest and his feet, clad in combat boots, were planted firmly at a shoulders' width apart that gave the illusion that he was a much larger force than he really was. Peter vaguely noted the man as an S.H.I.E.L.D agent, judging by the familiar black uniform.

Peter relaxed, if only slightly.

"…because, trust me, if I'd seen your pretty face before, I wouldn't forget it so easily, and you'd definitely know me," the stranger finished, "So tell me beautiful, what's your name?"

He shouldn't have answered; probably should have faked a pleasant smile, turned and walked away. But the man's smile was forcing a blush to his cheeks and he could already hear himself stuttering out his own name before he could think to stop. "Peter…I-I'm Peter."

"Well, Petey, I take it from your clothes and baby face that you don't belong to S.H.I. ," the stranger commented.

Peter scowled automatically. "And judging by the lack of colour in your wardrobe and your cocky attitude, I'd say you do belong to S.H.I.E.L.D," he shot back, eyes narrowing, "And don't call me Petey!"

"Good deduction Petey," he answered cheerfully, "I'm one of S.H.I.E.L.D's newest recruits; sheath, Intel and removal are my specialises."

Peter arched an eyebrow. "Uh, did you just admit to being S.H.I.E.L.D's newest assassin? Doesn't that, I don't know, give the game away?"

The man paused thoughtfully. "Hmm, now that you mention it, I suppose it does. I guess that means I should…kill you or something…"

The teenager took a step backwards instinctively, a wary look crossing his face.

He cackled loudly. "Don't look so scared Petey. I couldn't ruin such a pretty face," his gloved hand reached out to trace the length of his jaw. The coolness of the leather against his skin made him shiver, and his breath deepened ever so slightly. "At least, not the way you think," he continued, his voice dropping to a more inappropriate level that practically dripped with sex.

Peter watched the mystery man through the canopy of his eyelashes. The man's gaze was intense, dark and no longer holding the light teasing it once held. His lips moved hurriedly, as if whispering to himself. Over the sound of blood pounding in his ears, he could make out a few phases.

"Pretty Peter…no can't…very pretty…but…"

He seemed to get closer, and Peter could feel the faint brush of breath against his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his lips. They parted instinctively, and he swallowed heavily, it feeling like his heart was beating in his throat.

"Wade!"

The voice, angered and filled with contempt, seemed to echo loudly around the empty corridor. It shocked Peter so suddenly that he veered backwards; his face flushed a dark red and his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. He blinked rapidly through his daze. The man – clearly the 'Wade' that was in a lot of trouble – looked a mixture of gleeful and amused, and scratched at the back of his head.

"Damn, I was hoping it would take them longer to find me," Wade commented offhandedly, "Oh well, guess it means I got to run."

Wade poked him firmly in the forehead with his index finger, causing Peter's eyes to cross as he tried to follow it, and he winked playfully before turning on his heel and disappearing around the next corner.

Peter couldn't be sure how long he stood there and stared blankly at the vacant space in front of him, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes because the sound of heavy footfalls broke him from his trance. He glanced over his shoulder, a little startled.

"Uncle Clint?" he said, confusion in his voice.

"Peter, hey," Clint grinned slightly in greeting, slowing his steps, "listen, did you see a guy go down here? He's, um, maybe my height, brunet, in his twenties…"

"Uh, um, I don't…" Peter stammered. He knew he should give up the stranger's – Wade's – whereabouts. After all, what reason did he have to lie? But it seemed as if his brain wasn't co-operating today because he found himself saying, "I d-don't know for sure…I mean, I could have…m-maybe he went down there…" he held out a shaky hand in the general opposite direction to them.

Clint clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks kid. Oh, and your dads are looking for you," he added, calling behind him as he disappeared at the end of the corridor.

On the way home, Peter's mind couldn't help drifting back to Wade. The man…confused him, to say the least, and he wasn't really sure why. All he knew for certain is he definitely wanted to see him again, whatever that meant.

Maybe dads' work outs won't be too bad after all, he smiled wryly.