Spider-Man//Avengers//Marvel One shots

Family Growing Pains (PT 1)

A/N: I found this draft hidden in my iCloud notes, and I like the premise, so decided to add it to this book so y'all can enjoy and I can save it from being lost again :) enjoy!
-IronDad (of course)
-Spideypool
-Eventual Superfamily

The first time it happened, it was the last day of school. Peter was buzzing with the excitement of finishing his first year at high school, already bouncing down the pavement with Ned at his side, excitedly babbling about his new electives and summer and camp and dating and the new Star Wars movie they were going to see tomorrow and it was just great.

Happy hadn't been there to pick him up, as per his request to get to walk home for once, so he waved an enthusiastic goodbye to Ned at the front door of Stark Tower, before rushing inside past the familiar security guards, and into the elevator.

"Afternoon JARVIS!" He called, giving the sensor in the corner a little wave. Nothing could bring down his ah-may-zing mood now!

"Good Afternoon Master Parker." The machine chirped back in the usual happy, equally excitable tone he always took with the friendly young boy.

Peter couldn't help but keep beaming as he stepped out into his and his father's apartment.

"HEY DAD!" He calls, letting his bag drop from his shoulder, holding it in one hand while the straps grated against the floor, plastic on wood. He keeps it in his grip though as he easily shucks off his battered shoes half way into the living room.

It's a spotless as ever, only a few tablets and blueprints on the coffee table, with, of course, a few empty mugs the size of Peter's head. Addict, Peter mused, continuing onwards, sliding his fluffy socks along the smooth laminate into the-

-kitchen.

"Hey kid." His Dad smiled, giving him a small, nervous wave that mimicked the one he'd done in the elevator.

He was wearing a suit, the blazer draped over the back of his usual chair at the table. His sleeves were rolled up but there wasn't a single trace of oil or grease or sweat that Peter could see.

His company though...

The broad, muscled blond in front of him and beside his Dad was wearing workout clothes: a tight shirt and some loose tracksuit bottoms, from what Peter could see. His skin was flushed and a thin layer of sweat looked built up along his hairline.

On the table next to his Dad's blazer was a half drunk water bottle, one in a funny shape as if to be gripped by someone's hand.

Peter blinked.

"Okay... Peter, this is Steve, Steve this is Peter, my son." Tony continued, breezing around the kitchen table to pull Peter into a short hug.

Peter just stayed limp, staring off at Steve, blinking slowly. At least his jaw wasn't hanging open to catch flies, he would reason later when he had time to think about how dumb his reaction had been.

Either way, Steve was not perturbed. When his Dad pulled back from the hug, he gave Peter a tentative smile and a short nod, "It's nice to meet you, Peter, your Dad talks about you a lot."

Which, implies they talk a lot a lot to start with.

Peter felt a rise of nausea in his gut.

He needed to get out of here.

He coughed, gripping the strap of his backpack with all his might. He could feel the fabric biting into his palm, leaving little indents of the stitching, "I have homework." He said dumbly, ducking his head and making a break for his room.

The moment he slammed the door- with a little more force than was probably necessary- his entire body went lax, and his butt hit the floor with a dull thud.

Damn.

When he looked up, his laptop was glowing on the other side of the room, and a half built Lego Death Star taunted him. Well, if he was going to sulk about this...

-

The second time it happens, Peter's forgotten about the first time.

Spending three days making a Lego Death Star and hanging out with his best friend over Skype does that to a person.

His Dad's out of town for the first two of them, only leaving him a brief note and following up with texts throughout the day. At first Peter's not entirely sure if they're avoiding each-other, but when his Dad comes home on the evening of the third day with a pizza from that place downtown and a smile, he promptly puts on Battle Star Galactica, and forgets about the incident all together.

For three whole blissful weeks.

Until he comes back from a group sleepover at Ned's where MJ poked fun all weekend, Gwen grumbled because Harry was away in England, and Wade was, as per usual, impossible to drag down into any mood other than absolutely so fucking happy.

In other words, it was perfect.

Right down to the very last moment when he walked into his Dad's lab, a heavy aluminium-steel robot in his arms and another blinding grin on his face.

"Guess who made a robot?" Peter asked, poking his head inside.

And his heart sank.

His Dad was gesturing at some holographic blueprints, Dum-E waving itself around like a lunatic so much that his little Dunce cap fell to the floor. And guess who swooped down to scoop it up?

Fucking Steve.

They were both looking at him, now, from across the room, a workbench situated between them.

It was terrifyingly similar to last time, and Peter's heart was beating itself out of his chest, or at least, giving it a good try.

He clutched the robot in his arms, squeezing.

"Oh Pete, thought you were coming back later." His Dad says, like he was the teenager being caught red handed with his boyfriend, not Peter freaking out.

"Y-Yeah." Peter stutters, "Wade drove me."

Tony's expression turns sour for half a moment, before falling carefully neutral, eyes flickering towards Steve. Fucking Steve. "I thought you weren't hanging out with him anymore." He says, like it's some lackadaisical comment about the weather, not a fucking judgement on who Peter's allowed to be friends with.

This time, the anxiety isn't there. This time, the only emotion that rears it's ugly head inside Peter's stomach is anger.

"Yeah well I thought you weren't going to bring your one night stands back to the house your kid lives in." Peter spits, already turning on his heel and storming away, the door slamming against the wall as he flings it open, slamming back shut when he's halfway down the corridor.

He doesn't make it back to his room before the tears start coming. They spill all over his hands and his robot and he can't stop shaking so JARVIS has to silently open the doors for him.