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“Okay, Peter Gabriel, time for a bath.” Clint eased Peter into the tub, squirming all the way. “I know, trust me, I hate baths, too. But you’re covered in pudding and your dad comes back from his meeting in an hour. And I like my face the way it is, thank you very much.” He and Natasha and Thor were supposed to be babysitting Peter, and Thor had gotten the grand idea to make pudding. The results were horrific.
Peter just stared at him from the tub with wide brown eyes.
“Don’t give me that look, your daddy is very scary sometimes. Especially when he doesn’t sleep. Terrifying. Now, which one of these is baby shampoo?”
“Aggaba!” Peter shouted, splashing the water. He giggled and stuck his fingers in his mouth.
“That is just adorable. But it doesn’t answer my question.”
Sam snorted from the doorway. “You’re hopeless. It’s the yellow bottle right next to you that says ‘Baby Shampoo’.”
Clint turned. “Look, this isn’t as easy as it looks.”
“Really? Because you’re making it look pretty impossible.” Sam sat next to Clint and grabbed the shampoo.
“Would you hold still for Uncle Sam?” he cooed as he gently scrubbed Peter’s head. Peter gave him a gummy smile and chewed on his rubber duck some more.
“Are you… how the hell are you doing this?” Clint asked.
“I have nieces and nephews. Plus, I'm a responsible, grown adult.”
“Yeah, barely.”
Sam slapped his head with a soapy hand and continued murmuring to Peter. “Your Uncle Clint is a moron, isn’t he?”
“Magaba?” Peter tilted his head and stared at Sam.
“Yes, he is.” He washed the shampoo from Peter’s hair, making sure to cover his eyes as he did. Clint watched in fascination.
“How do you even know how to do all this?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe because it really is as easy as it looks.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Clint stood up with a groan and bent over to pick Peter out of the tub. “Come on, Peter Criss, time to get out.” He found a soft yellow towel and wrapped him up in that.
“You’re going to run out of classic rock references eventually,” Sam said.
“Nonsense. Isn’t that right, Peter Tork?”
“Really? The guy from The Monkees?”
“’Addy!”
Clint turned and saw Tony leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, Stark, how was your meeting?”
“Why is the kitchen covered in chocolate pudding?” he asked as Clint pushed past and headed for Peter’s nursery.
“I have no idea. Maybe Thor got in there again, you know how he loves chocolate.”
“And the chocolate pudding here in the bathroom?”
“…Peter may or may not have rolled in the pudding when it spilled.”
“Uh huh.”
“Also, how do you change a diaper?”
“You’re completely hopeless.”
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Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples. A mad scientist had created a smoke bomb that turned everyone within a 15- mile radius bright orange and babbling Russian and Bruce had been asked (ordered) to fix it. It was exhausting.
He heard the door open and looked up just in time to catch a wriggling baby. “You need to quit throwing your son.”
“I’m not ‘throwing’ him. I'm tossing him gently into the arms of his uncle. It’s a sign of trust.”
Bruce settled a hand on Peter’s back and stood up. “Is this your way of telling me to take a break?”
“He’s hungry. And you haven’t slept in, like, 39 hours.”
“You’ve gone longer.”
“Quit avoiding. Let’s go eat.”
Peter tugged on Bruce’s hair as they walked to the kitchen. “Unc’ Bu,” he babbled.
“See? He missed you,” Tony grinned.
Bruce smiled down at Peter and stroked his free hand over his hair. “His hair’s already curling. He’s gonna end up with your rat’s nest hair.”
Tony kissed Peter’s forehead and entered the kitchen. “Then he’ll be getting all the ladies. My hair is awesome. Want some mac and cheese?”
“Love some.”
Peter continued grabbing at Bruce’s hair while they ate. Occasionally he would tap his hands on Bruce’s shoulder or kick his feet at Bruce’s knees.
“…so the compound I'm trying to make should return the skin tone to normal, but the Russian is completely baffling. Unless the chemical somehow rewired their brain waves…”
“But why Russian specifically?” Tony asked around a bite of mac and cheese. “Like, they could’ve done French, or Slovakian, or Greek, or whatever. The scientist is from Minnesota or something, right? Not many Russians there.”
“Maybe it’s a code or something,” Bruce replied. “Some secret meaning to whatever it is their saying."
“Co’e!” Peter shouted. “Petah lis’en.”
Bruce smiled. “See? Peter gets it. Maybe something like…” he trailed off.
“Bruce?”
“I think your son just figured it out for me.” Bruce stood and handed Peter to Tony. “Gotta go.”
“My son, the infant genius,” Tony grinned after Bruce was gone. He bounced Peter a bit. “You gonna follow in your daddy’s footsteps?”
“No!”
“Good.”
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Bucky wasn’t comfortable around Peter.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Peter—on the contrary, really. Bucky loved Peter. He was just about the cutest thing ever.
But sometimes he would look at the baby and remember the look on a man’s face when Bucky shot him in his own home, or a bloodstained picture in a victim’s pocket of three smiling children, and his blood would run cold. He was afraid of what he could do to Peter.
So when Natasha plopped Peter onto his lap one day, it was a little terrifying. “Umm…” he managed.
“You haven’t touched Peter since we moved into the tower. It’s getting ridiculous. So you are going to sit here and play with that child and you’re not moving until you do.”
Peter watched them in apparent fascination for a few moments before steadying himself on Bucky’s arm and standing up. “Pway, Unc’ Buck!”
“I… can’t I just, like, watch a movie with him?” Bucky asked. Natasha slapped the back of his head and headed for the elevator.
“No. You’re going to bond with the kid. You can’t live in this tower and avoid the baby all at the same time, Bucky.” And with that, she was gone.
“Yeah, but…” Bucky steadied Peter and stared at him. Peter stared back and then giggled, squirming in his arms. “Okay. I can do this. It’s just a kid.”
“Pway!” Peter cried out.
“Sure, we can play. We can…” Bucky looked around the room and spotted a pile of colorful blocks. “Let’s build blocks. Sure. Why not.”
He stood and managed to get over to the pile without dropping Peter, so that was a plus. “Okay, we’ll just… set you down here and… I’ll… be on the couch.”
“Come! Pway b’ocks!” Peter thumped on the floor beside him insistently before returning to stacking his own blocks.
“Oh. Okay, yeah…” Bucky crouched awkwardly and picked up a couple of blue blocks. “Let’s…” An idea struck him. “Hey, kid, you ever play ‘Godzilla’? Clint showed me that movie the other day, let’s do that.”
When the rest of the team gathered on the main floor later that evening, the entire floor of the living room was covered in a massive array of block buildings of various shapes and colors. Some were taller than the couch. One in the center was the height of the TV and vaguely shaped like the Empire State Building. Bucky and Peter stood at the other end.
“Okay, ready? Three, two, one.” Bucky lifted Peter up and set him about the room, making roaring noises as they went. Peter laughed wildly and kicked at the blocks as he went, destroying buildings and knocking down the innocent block civilians.
“What exactly is happening here?” Tony asked.
“We’re playing Godzilla,” Bucky explained. “Peter wasn’t tall enough to knock down the buildings himself, so I’m the body and he’s the head. And kicking legs. And sometimes hands. It’s a complex system.”
“I’m sure.”
“Hey, Godzilla!” Clint exclaimed as the elevator opened. “Did you make sure to add innocent civilians?”
“Loads. He just knocked down a grocery store. There were no survivors.” Bucky grinned as Peter knocked down another building. “That was the gymnasium.”
“This, right here, this is how kids grow up to become evil villains. You’ve corrupted my son,” Tony said.
“Destwoy!” Peter cried.
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“Come, valiant Son of Iron! The paint has almost dried!”
Peter came running into the living room, followed closely by Thor. Their clothes were covered in thick globs of dry paint, and Peter’s bare feet left tracks of bright yellow as he padded across the floor. Thor frowned as he watched.
“We should remember to clean this chamber when we have finished, young Peter,” he decided. Peter nodded and collapsed onto the floor.
“Pain’ now!” he said. Thor grinned.
“Of course, young one. What shall we paint next?”
“Hmm.” Peter tapped his chin and left a streak of blue. “Pain’ tab’e,” he said, tapping said coffee table. Thor nodded and sat cross- legged next to the little boy.
“It is a good thing this paint claims to be ‘washable’, or else I fear the Man of Iron would be quite furious,” he commented as they squirted green paint on the center of the table. Peter rubbed his hands through it and began smudging paint in various squiggles and designs. Thor did the same.
By the time they were done, they were both covered in green paint. There was some in Thor’s hair and streaks all over Peter’s cheeks and neck, and their clothes were almost soaked in the stuff. The table was also completely covered.
“What in the…” Tony stared from the doorway as the doors to the elevator closed behind him. “Thor, what exactly happened here?” The rest of the team shuffled in behind him. Natasha covered her grin and folded onto the couch.
“It’s certainly… bright,” she said. Thor grinned.
“The young Son of Iron had decided that the room needed more color,” he said triumphantly. Tony blinked several times.
“So… you let him… paint the table,” he replied.
“Daddy!” Peter cried. “Look!”
“I see, buddy, but…”
“Petah ‘mash! Petah ‘mash!” He slapped the table and green paint flew around the room.
Bruce grinned. “That’s right, Peter. Smash.”
“I blame you for this,” Tony glared at the demi- god.
Thor grinned.
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Steve awoke in the middle of the night to a quiet sniffling. He opened his eyes to see Peter standing at the foot of his bed, bundled in a blanket and wiping at his nose.
“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” he asked, sitting up.
“Don’ feew good,” Peter whispered raspily. He coughed and wiped his nose again.
“What hurts?” Steve stood up and pulled on a pair of socks before picking up the little boy and setting him on his hip.
“Hewe.” Peter pointed to his chest. “An’ tummy. An’ 'm hot.” Peter leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder as they headed for the kitchen.
“Sounds like the flu. Let’s see what medicines your Daddy keeps in the house, okay?” Tony was away at a board meeting in California and wouldn’t be back until late tomorrow evening. “You wanna watch a movie while I look for medicines?” Peter nodded.
“Daddy’s movie?” he asked.
“Umm…Sure. JARVIS? Any idea what that means?”
“Starting up Aladdin now,” JARVIS replied. Steve reminded himself to ask Tony why exactly it was “his” movie.
Steve settled Peter on the couch and wrapped him tightly in his blanket. “Be right back,” he promised, kissing Peter’s forehead. He felt pretty hot.
Steve rifled through the cabinets and found a couple of medicine bottles, but they all had complicated names and bright colors and Steve wasn’t sure which he was supposed to use. He finally gave up and called Tony.
“Exactly why are you up at 3 am?”
Steve grinned. “You’re up, too.”
“It’s only 11 pm here, nice try. What’s up?”
“Peter’s got a touch of the flu, and I'm not sure which medicines I'm supposed to use. They all look different from the ones we used to have.”
“Peter’s sick? I’ll be there in an hour.”
“No, you won’t. You need to be at that board meeting. Besides, the suit doesn’t fly that fast. You should stay there and finish up… whatever it is you’re doing. Just tell me which medicines.”
He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine,” Tony said finally. “I’ll be home early tomorrow, though. Have you found the red colored medicine yet?”
“The one that says cherry flavored?”
“That’s the one. One teaspoon of that should do the trick. Also, if his chest is hurting, there’s some purple medicine that the doctor gave us if it gets too bad. Is he coughing?”
“Yeah, pretty badly.”
“I really have to get a doctor to look at that closer, could be something more serious. There’s some kid cough drops in the cabinet by the fridge.”
“Thanks. You wanna talk to Peter?”
“Yeah, put me on.”
Steve walked into the living room and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Guess who’s on the phone, kiddo?”
Peter turned and took Steve’s cell. “Daddy?” he coughed. Steve sat next to Peter and bundled him up some more.
“Hey, Peter Pan,” Steve heard Tony murmur. “How’re you feeling?”
“M’ tummy hu’ts. Bu’ Cap lemme watch you’ movie.”
“Yeah? What part are you at?”
“The genie got ‘em outta the cave.”
“That’s the best part. You listen to Cap, okay? Be good for him. Daddy’ll be home tomorrow, okay baby?”
“’Kay Daddy. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Peter Pan.”
Peter handed the phone back to Steve and curled back into the couch. Steve knelt in front of him and poured some medicine into a spoon.
“Don’ wanna,” Peter shook his head and coughed.
“I know you don’t like medicine, but it’ll make you feel better, okay? Daddy says it’s cherry flavored.” Peter willingly opened his mouth and swallowed the medicine with a grimace.
“Watch movie, Cap?” Peter rasped.
“Sure, buddy.” Peter climbed into Steve’s lap and settled his head on his shoulder. Steve leaned back and managed to lay down with Peter on his chest, wrapped in his blanket.
The next morning, when Tony arrived at the tower, Steve was fast asleep on the couch with Peter curled tightly into his side.
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Natasha was the only one awake when she heard cries from Peter’s room. She walked down the hall and found his door open and the lights all on. Peter was sitting up in his bed and wiping the tears from his cheeks. He looked up when he heard the door creak.
“Aun’ Tash?” he asked shakily. She stepped in and sat on the bed.
“What’s wrong, kotyonok?” she asked gently.
“I had a bad dream,” Peter sniffed. She held out her arms and he crawled into her lap.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Natasha stroked his hair when Peter nodded. “Sometimes I have bad dreams, too.”
“You do?” he asked, looking up at her with watery eyes. She smiled and stroked his cheek with her thumb. “But you’ not sca’ed of nothin’.”
“Of course I am. Everyone is scared of something. But I have a secret weapon that gets rid of all bad dreams.” Natasha stood up and settled Peter on her hips before heading for the kitchen. “I’ll show you.”
“What’re you sca’ed of?” Peter asked as they walked. He clutched her shirt and leaned his chin on her shoulder.
“Heights,” she replied honestly. “And snakes.”
“’M sca’ed of monste’s,” Peter said. “An’ dinos.”
“Dinosaurs are pretty scary.” Natasha pulled two cups out of the cabinet and put some milk in a pot to heat up. “Are you scared of spiders?”
“Nu- uh. Spide’s are cool.”
“I think so, too.” She poured chocolate sauce into the cups and added several marshmallows before sprinkling cinnamon and some hazelnut into the milk and stirring it. “Ready for my secret recipe?”
“Is it hot choc’late?”
“It’s better than hot chocolate. It’s ‘super chocolate’.” She poured the milk into the cups and added plenty of whipped cream on top. “I have to put you down so you can drink it, though, okay?” Peter nodded and she set him in a chair at the table before handing him his cup. “Careful, it’s warm.”
They sat at the table for about an hour, sipping chocolate and talking about their fears. Peter also admitted that he was afraid of the dark and sometimes he dreamed of “Daddy’s blue light” going out and that scared him. Natasha would just comb his hair with her fingers and murmur that they would never let that happen. Pretty soon he was dozing off at the table and Natasha was carrying him back to bed.
From then on, whenever Peter had a nightmare, he’d always go to Natasha’s room first.
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“Daddy, come pway!”
Tony sat on the floor by his son and leaned over the still- green table. “What are we playing, Peter Pan?”
“’Obots,” Peter replied. He handed Tony a couple of plastic robots and returned to his block city. Every once in a while he’d make one of the robots knock down a building or a few Lego civilians, giggling all the time.
“Are the robots taking over this city?” Tony asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Good to know you’re still playing with Uncle Bucky.”
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“Daddy, I make wainbow!”
“You did?” Tony went to the window and saw Peter holding up a small mirror to the sun. It shone on the wall in different bright colors. “Look at all those colors. Which ones do you see?”
“Wed, and owange, and ye’ow, and g’een, and pu’ple.”
“That’s amazing, Peter Pan. You wanna go see if we can make rainbows in Uncle Bruce’s lab?”
“Yeah!”
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“Alright, ready?”
“Uh huh.”
Tony turned off the lights and jumped into the bed with Peter, bouncing him slightly off the mattress. Peter giggled and curled close to Tony’s side.
“Okay, here we go. Three, two, one.”
Tony clicked on the new bedside lamp that he’d just finished this afternoon. The room slowly became washed in a blue glow the same shade as Tony’s arc reactor, with star and galaxy patterns thrown onto the wall.
“Look at that, baby. No more darkness in here.”
“Are those all the stars in the world?”
“All the stars in the whole universe.” Tony kissed Peter’s head and slipped down next to him in the bed. “Want me to read you a story?”
“Okay.” Peter climbed over him and grabbed a book before dropping onto Tony’s lap.
As Tony was turning the pages, Peter settled a hand on his arc reactor and smiled. “I love you, Daddy,” he said.
Tony kissed his head again. “I love you too, Peter.”