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"FRIDAY?" A four-year-old Peter asked from where he was situated on the floor, surrounded by Legos and colouring books as he looked up at the ceiling. He was hungry, Papa hadn't come to give him his lunch. Daddy was at work, and Peter was sad. He missed Daddy. "Where is Papa?"
"I am very sorry, Young Peter, but I am unable to disclose that information."
Peter frowned in confusion, an index finger raising to his lips. He didn't know what those big words meant. All he could figure out was that FRIDAY was saying no to him, and FRIDAY hardly ever said no to him. Why didn't she want to take Peter to his Papa? Oh! He had forgotten to say please!
"Ms. FRIDAY, can you pwease take me to Papa?" Peter tried again, only to receive the same answer. To a four-year-old, the words meant absolutely nothing to him, his younger brain unable to comprehend what the bigger words meant. Peter didn't understand why FRIDAY wasn't giving his Papa to him. "It's okay, FRIDAY."
Peter pushed his smaller-for-his-age body off of the floor, rubbing his eyes a little as he padded over to his bed, pulling his teddy and baby blanket off of the mattress and hugged them to his chest. He made his way over to his door, pulling it open easily because it had been left ajar. He made his way over to his two Dad's room first, because that was where they slept. Maybe Papa was having a nap and Peter could join with him?
He jumped up to reach the door handle, smiling a little when he was able to get the door open. He frowned when he realised that Papa wasn't in his room, turning around and making his way down the hall. His index finger had slipped into his mouth, despite knowing that Papa would be mad at him for it, entering the kitchen. He also knew that he wasn't allowed in the kitchen by himself, but it was Papa's fault for hiding from him. Maybe Papa was playing hide and seek with him?
"Papa?" Peter called out, entering the living room with his little shuffling feet. He had been behind the couch when he accidentally stepped on his blanket and tripped, promptly falling forwards and landing face-first into the back of the leather couch. He sat back, hand on his nose, tears burning in his eyes. But he couldn't cry! What would Papa say if he found Peter crying on the floor? He would not like it. He had overheard his Dad's talking about something called tantrums. He didn't know what it meant but he knew that it had something to do with him. Peter didn't want to be a tantrum!
So, the toddler picked himself off of the floor and rubbed his eyes, ignoring the pain and continued to move around the room, looking anywhere and everywhere for his Papa. Why was he hiding from Peter?
The child perked up when he heard the sound of the lift opening, immediately crawling out from under the coffee table and running over to the hall. He dragged his bear and blanket behind him as the person stepped out of the lift, only deflating a little when he realised it wasn't Papa. It was his Uncle Clint, and he loved his Uncle Clint.
"Hey there little dude." Clint said as he approached Peter, arms open for a hug. Peter gladly let his uncle pick him up, wrapping an arm around his neck and held his bear and blanket with the other. "Where's your Pops, huh? What happened to your face? It's all red."
Peter shrugged his small shoulders, the excitement from seeing Clint beginning to wear off. "I fell an' the couch hit me. Was looking for Papa. He disappeared."
Peter watched Clint's facial expressions change, feeling confused when Clint frowned. "Steve left you here by yourself?"
"Haven't found Papa yet." Peter mumbled, his index finger beginning to gravitate back to his mouth as he grew anxious. "Is Papa playing a trick on me? Was Peter bad?"
Clint smiled. "You weren't bad, Pete. It probably slipped Papa's mind, you know he's very old."
Peter giggled at that, blissfully aware of the many questions going through Clint's mind as he took the toddler to the lift, having FRIDAY take them to the communal floor. Peter cuddled into his uncle, sucking absently on the tip of his index finger as he rested his head on Clint's shoulder. He was sleepy, he had a very bad nightmare last night, and had slept with Papa. Daddy was gone for another two whole days! Daddy was always better at making Peter happy after having a bad dream. He wanted Daddy.
He knew Papa wasn't his real Papa, and that he had a Mommy out there somewhere. But Peter loved his Papa a lot. His Mommy didn't if she wasn't here with him right now.
Peter felt a little sadder when he thought about his Mommy. "Daddy back yet, Uncle Clint?"
"Not yet, buddy, just another two days. Daddy's very busy. Maybe I can help you video call him tonight?" Peter grinned, nodding frantically. "You can stay with me tonight if you want, Pete. I'm a lot of fun, aren't I!"
"Yes!" Peter replied, sitting back up straighter in Clint's arms and kicked his feet a little from where they were on either side of Clint's hips. "When see Lila and Cooper and Nate-Nate?"
"In a few weeks. They're very excited to see you again." Peter smiled. He loved his cousins. "Your Uncle Sam has been dying to see you too."
"Uncle Sam here?" Peter asked, bouncing a little. He cheered when Uncle Clint nodded, thoughts of his Papa's whereabouts disappearing from his mind as he was taken into the communal floor, place right into his Uncle Sam's lap who told him stories and played with him until he fell asleep.
When he woke up an hour or two later, Papa was back and was sitting next to Uncle Bucky, letting Peter cuddle into him as he awakened from his nap. Any worries about where Papa had been had been forgotten about until the next day, when his Papa disappeared again without telling Peter goodbye.
He had stayed with Uncle Clint last night and called Daddy before he went to sleep. Papa had kissed him goodnight and had left the room. He wasn't at breakfast, and left Peter to wonder where and why his Papa had left him.
"Where's Papa?" Peter asked, hugging his bear tight from where he was perched on Uncle Bruce's lap.
"He went out on a jog with your Uncle Buck." Bruce replied, hugging him. "He'll be back soon."
"I want Daddy." Peter whispered, feeling sad. His eyes were filling with tears quickly, and as much as he wanted to be a big boy, he wanted his Daddy because Papa kept disappearing. He buried his face into his Uncle Bruce's shoulder and cried.
Papa returned hours later, when Peter was watching his cartoons on TV. Peter had happily let Papa scoop him up into his arms, content to sit in his father's lap as he watched all the colours on screen. He fell asleep feeling a little happier, because Daddy would be coming back tomorrow night!
But he had a nightmare, and wet the bed. Papa was gone again.
"F-FRIDAY." Peter had sobbed, wiping his eyes as he looked at his small toddler bed, choking on sobs when he realised he had ruined his baby blanket. He was cold and he was wet, all he wanted was for his Daddy to come help him and make him happy again. "W-When Daddy back?"
"He will be back at around six p.m." FRIDAY replied, her voice comforting Peter just a little. "Would you like me to call your Uncle Clint, young Peter? He is currently awake."
Peter usually suggested Papa when Daddy was away. He nodded, though asked his question. "Where Papa?"
"He is in Mr. Barnes' living quarters." Peter hadn't been expecting FRIDAY to tell him where Papa was. Thoughts of Uncle Clint forgotten, he began shuffling out of his room with his bear in toe, sobbing again when he couldn't take his blanket. He looked at the lift for a few moments, wiping his eyes, before jumping up to reach the doors to the stairs. He took them slowly, not wanting to fall, hating the uncomfortable feeling on his pyjamas as he made his way down. He knew where his Uncle Bucky's floor was, he had been there many times before. It was two floors underneath his own!
When the four-year-old was sure that he was in the right spot, he pushed the door open and began wandering around Uncle Bucky's floor. It was dark, and Peter was scared. Why was Papa here?
"Young Peter, I suggest that you wait for your Uncle Clint to arrive." FRIDAY's quiet voice filled his ears as he began heading in the direction of the kitchen, running his small hand along the wall as he did so. Peter ignored his Daddy's... robot and continued moving, looking around the kitchen and then the living room. He was next to the TV when he heard a noise, something like a grunt, which both scared Peter and told him that he wasn't alone on his Uncle Bucky's floor.
He padded in the direction of the sound, seeing a little light coming from one of the doors. This was Uncle Bucky's bedroom! Was Papa in there?
He wasted no time in pushing at the door, since it had been left ajar. He didn't open it all the way, only peeking in, confusion filling the child's mind as he tried to comprehend what was going on in front of him.
Papa and Uncle Bucky where on Bucky's bed. Papa didn't have a shirt on, and he was sure that Uncle Bucky didn't either. Why weren't they wearing their pyjamas? Peter frowned even deeper when he saw Papa kiss Bucky, only having seen him kiss Daddy before. Papa wasn't supposed to kiss anyone who wasn't Daddy, right? Why was Papa with Uncle Bucky when Daddy was away?
Peter didn't understand. He stood there in his soiled pyjamas, watching his Papa kiss his Uncle. He heard his Papa laugh, causing his frown to become more set on his face, wondering why Papa was so happy. He was happy with Daddy, wasn't he?
He backed away when he heard the lift, fingers immediately raising to his mouth as if he were in trouble. His eyes were burning again when he spotted Uncle Clint rushing over to him, kneeling down to his height. "Hey there, buddy, what's going on? Why didn't you wait for me on your floor?"
Clint was whispering as if he were trying not to wake up Uncle Bucky, Peter finding his eyes moving back to the door. Uncle Clint must have seen the movement, because he was hoisting Peter off of the ground and setting him on his hip before heading towards the door.
Peter watched as his uncle peered into the room, frowning at the horror displayed on his face. Did that mean Papa kissing someone who wasn't Daddy was bad?
"Holy shit." He heard his uncle mutter, before the man grabbed the door handle and slammed the door shut. Peter jumped, letting out a startled cry as Clint began heading straight for the lift, rocking him a few times once the doors closed. "Oh, kiddo, shh. You shouldn't have had to see that, you poor thing. Fu- shit-"
"Bad w-word." Peter mumbled, despite his tears, wrapping both his arms around his uncle's neck. "W-why Papa k-kiss U-Uncle B-Bucky? Papa o-only meant to k-kiss D-Dada!"
"You're spending the night with me." Uncle Clint didn't answer any of Peter's questions, Peter having no idea what was going on. He didn't understand. Papa was supposed to be with Daddy, not Uncle Bucky! These thoughts just made him cry harder, along with his wet pyjamas, wanting nothing but his Daddy. "Let's give you a bath, bud. We'll go back to your room to get you some clothes, then you're coming with me."
Peter nodded, although he didn't really take in the words, burying his face into his uncle's neck and sobbed. He missed Daddy so much it was hurting, and he didn't want Daddy to be sad if Peter told him Papa kissed Uncle Bucky. But he had to tell Daddy, because he told Daddy everything!
Even though he was far too young to fully understand what he had seen, he knew that seeing his father like that with someone else wasn't right.
He cried all through his bath, wondering if he was being a tantrum, though didn't care as he pleaded for Clint to take him out of the bath. Once he was all clean and into new soft pyjamas and a pull up, he watched his baby blanket be put into the washer before he was taken to Clint's room, now laying on his uncle's chest. He had stopped crying, but that didn't mean he had stopped being sad. He wanted Daddy to come home faster.
It took him a long time to fall asleep, and he woke up sadder and still sleepy. He was curled up in his uncles arms, Clint staring down at him with a smile, running his thumbs over Peter's cheeks which helped Peter feel a little better. He nuzzled into the touch, squeezing his bear, simply laying limp in Uncle Clint's arms as the man got up and began to navigate around the room.
Once they were all dressed and ready for the day, Clint took them down into the communal floor and sat down at the table with Peter in his lap, who was wrapped up in his now clean and just as soft baby blanket, already falling asleep. The hand rubbing his back soothed him into a calm state, feeling a little more relaxed that he knew Daddy was coming back home in a few hours.
All of his relaxation disappeared when he saw Papa walk into the kitchen, tensing up in Clint's arms and burrowing himself deeper into his blanket. His youthful eyes followed his Papa as the man moved about the room, Uncle Bucky appearing soon after, the both of them looking sad. Peter didn't understand. Why were they sad? They had been happy when Peter saw them.
He turned around in Clint's arms, not wanting to look at Papa as he began approaching. Uncle Clint's arms wrapped around him, tight and secure, Peter's eyes closing from the exhaustion. He tensed when a new hand touched his shoulder, letting out a whine and tried to move away. The hand left him instantly, Peter peeking out just a little to see his sad Papa staring back at him.
"Want to come here, sweetie?" Papa asked him, his voice shaking like Daddy's did when he was scared.
"No." Peter replied, resting his forehead on Uncle Clint's neck. His skin was warm. "You kissed Uncle Bucky."
Peter, the young innocent child he was, had no idea what his words inflicted on the rest of the people in the room. The four-year-old simply turned away from his father, gripping onto Clint as if he were his lifeline, his young eyes moving around all of his Uncle's and Aunt's, pointedly ignoring Papa's sad look. He wanted to cry again, but he had to be a big boy for Daddy, right? He was four!
"Aw, Pete." He heard Uncle Clint whisper, being lifted up a little higher in Clint's arms. "It's okay, bud."
"Want Daddy now." Peter replied, raising a fist to his eye to try and make the sleepiness go away.
"He'll be home before you know it."
Peter didn't reply, far too focused on the scary look on his Aunt Natasha's face. She was looking at Papa, looking similar to when Peter had done something bad and was about to get scolded by Daddy, Peter finding himself a little scared of the woman. Papa had backed away from him, and looked like he was about to cry. Peter ignored him, sticking a finger into his mouth to try and soothe himself.
"Pancakes, anyone?" Uncle Bruce spoke up after a few moments, Peter nodding to his words quietly.
Papa disappeared. Uncle Bucky went too.
Peter's day was a bad one. He didn't want to be a tantrum, or whatever Papa had called him when he was talking to Daddy about it, but he couldn't help it. He was sleepy, but he couldn't nap until Daddy was home. Papa and Uncle Bucky weren't there, and Peter found that the thought made him want to cry. So, he did, and took out all of his sadness and longing out on Uncle Thor.
He had been in the middle of hurling his Legos across the room when he heard the lift ding, stopping mid-throw to scramble up onto his feet, climbing over the coffee table and jumped onto the couch to see who it was. Peter burst into tears when he saw that it was his Daddy, immediately lifting his arms as the man began walking down the hall. Daddy didn't look sad yet. Peter didn't want to make Daddy sad. But he wanted to tell Daddy.
"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" Daddy had said as he picked Peter up off of the couch, the child immediately burrowing into his biological father's embrace. "Come on, bubba, tell me what's up."
"P-Papa-" Peter mumbled, hiccupping and choking sobs as he tried to sit himself up in Daddy's arms, wiping his eyes with closed fists. "P-Papa k-kiss Uncle 'ucky!"
"What was that?" Daddy asked him, carrying Peter around the couch and sat down. Uncle Clint was beside Tony when Peter looked up, looking sad. Daddy looked confused. "Do you know what's wrong, Clint? Where's Steve? He was supposed to look after Pete."
"The kid's right, Tony." Uncle Clint mumbled, reaching forward to wipe away some of Peter's tears. Peter sniffed, fisting his Dad's shirt in his hands, his chest hurting from how hard he was breathing. "Steve was, uh.."
"FRIDAY?" Daddy asked, Peter looking up to the ceiling. "What happened while I was gone?"
"I am very sorry, Sir, but Captain Rogers prevented me from giving his location and.. activities to everyone inside of the building." Peter didn't understand what was being said, but felt sad when his Daddy began to frown. "I was unable to alert you of his activities, and unable to tell young Peter where he was when needed."
"Has he lifted it now?" Daddy said, his voice sounding wobbly. Like he was scared. Peter was scared.
"Yes, Boss. Two nights ago, which is when young Peter was in need of assistance. I was unable to stop him, there were still elements of Mr. Roger's command in place. I am very sorry that he had to see that."
"Where is Steve?"
"Mr. Barnes' living quarters."
Daddy didn't say anything after that. He just brought Peter close into a hug, Peter melting into his Dad's touch.
The next few days were confusing for Peter.
Daddy disappeared, too, but he could hear him yelling. Peter spent his time with Uncle Clint most of the time, not having seen Papa since he told him no, beginning to miss both of his Dad's. Daddy always came back, though. Papa didn't.
It wasn't long before Peter and his Daddy went on a vacation to Uncle Clint's house, without Papa. Peter missed his Papa, so much. He didn't know why he kissed Uncle Bucky, but he knew it made his Daddy sad. He saw his Dad cry for the first time when they went to bed on the first night at Uncle Clint's house, Peter knowing that something bad was happening with Daddy and Papa. They were fighting. Papa wasn't supposed to kiss Uncle Bucky.
Peter played with his cousins, tried not to throw a tantrum when he was angry, because when he had told Daddy he didn't want to be a tantrum, the man had laughed and told him what it actually was. But Peter got sad, and he cried, because he missed his Papa and wanted to know why he didn't like Daddy anymore.
Six years later, when Peter was ten years old, he finally got to know why his Pops didn't want to be with Dad anymore.
He didn't love Dad like he used to, and he had been in love with Bucky before he went into the ice. Peter rarely saw his Pops, Steve now, maybe once a month since he was four. It made Peter sad, but Steve had betrayed Dad.
Another six years passed, and Peter had just turned sixteen. Steve wasn't there, he hadn't been there for a long time, but Dad was.
Dad never, ever disappeared on him.