Blood Thirst

chapter 2

Steve watched as the young boy put his hands on the dirty ground before lifting himself up slowly.

"We have our car parked close by—" Steve started to say while exiting the alley when the clumsy sound of shuffling feet stopped them.

Steve turned around in time to see the kid's eyes close before he started a descent back to the floor. Steve reacted quickly, thanks to his vampire reflexes, catching the boy before he connected with the floor.

"What happened?" Tony asked when Steve left the alley with an unconscious body in his arms.

"The kid fainted," Steve stated. "Someone has fed off him."

They hadn't noticed in the dark alley, but now, under the street light, they could clearly see the two red inflamed dots on the kid's neck. They knew that blood trafficking was a thing, and they didn't really care since most of the time it was done voluntarily by people who were seeking some extra bucks. But to be done to a kid was unforgivable, and Steve knew that Tony was going to correct that.

"Let's take him to the car; we can have someone examine him in the tower," Tony said, opening the back door of the vehicle so that Steve could lay the unresponsive boy in the back seat of his very expensive car.

Tony began the drive back to their home, clearly noticing the concerned looks that his husband threw at the boy, always checking him through the rearview mirror. Tony knew that Steve had a soft spot for kids, and seeing such an innocent kid in that state probably had broken Steve's heart; hell, it had broken Tony's.

Soon enough, they arrived home, Steve not even waiting for Tony to turn off the engine before he got out of the car and retrieved the young boy, holding him in his arms almost running towards the elevator.

"Hey, wait for me!" Tony yelled out, running to the elevator that closed behind him, already making the trip up to the main floor.

"He's so light," Steve whispered amidst the silence of the trip.

"I will make sure to order some food for him," Tony said, already taking out his phone.

"No," Steve shook his head. "He deserves some homemade food; I will make him something."

"Steve..." Tony knew what Steve was doing; he was getting attached to the kid, a kid that Tony would be sending back to his family by tomorrow morning, and he wouldn't want to see Steve broken apart.

"I will make him something to eat," Steve repeated determinedly, grabbing the kid a little tighter.

"Alright," Tony said in defeat, putting his phone away just in time for the door to open; inside, the whole coven was there.

"Steve?" Bucky was the first to react.

"Is that a kid?" Barton asked.

"Yep, Steve fished him out of the streets. Now, move off the couch," Tony ordered, and everyone did as told, clearing the couch so that Steve could lay the boy down.

"Why did you bring him here? Are you going to turn him?" This time it was Natasha who asked.

"Well, contrary to what people believe, I'm not a heartless monster to leave a kid out in the streets. I'm going to search for his family to send him off," he explained, although by the face Natasha was making, she didn't believe him.

Steve didn't acknowledge what he said and went in the direction of the kitchen, probably to prepare something for the kid.

"Alright, time to find out who you are," Tony murmured, sitting down next to the sleeping kid while typing something on his phone using facial recognition to discover his identity. It didn't take long, and soon enough, Tony had a name: 'Peter Parker'. Tony leaned back, reading the details. '15 years old,' damn, that's young, 'orphan, no next of kin, on the run from CPS.' Fuck.

In the kitchen, Steve was happily cooking. It was something that he always enjoyed doing. It wasn't very useful since they didn't need to eat; they could, but it just didn't bring any nutritional value. Because of Steve's passion, they kept the kitchen stocked so he could try all the recipes he wanted to. Although Steve was excited to have someone he could cook for, he opted to make something simple. From the looks of the kid, he hadn't had a full meal in ages, so he would need something light but filling. He made something that he hadn't made in a long time: the soup that his mama always made for him when he was sick, vegetable broth with potatoes and chicken, that never failed to make him better.

In the room next door, Peter was starting to wake up, bringing Tony's attention to him. It seemed that the boy had no rush to open his eyes, sinking further into the couch and hugging tightly the blanket they had wrapped around him.

Tony could understand him; God knows when was the last time the kid was able to sleep in a warm and comfortable surface that wasn't the dirty floor. He let him enjoy it until finally the kid decided to open his eyes. Tony saw the relaxation leave his body to be replaced by panic as he sat up with wide eyes.

"Hey, hey, kid, it's okay, you're alright," Tony said, getting up to crouch in front of him.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Peter asked.

"My name is Tony; we met in the alley, remember? My husband offered you a meal, but then you passed out. You're safe in our home," Tony calmly explained, not wanting to startle the kid.

"Oh," Peter said, realizing. "I'm sorry; that was stupid of me. I'll just leave; thank you," he said, already getting up, leaving the warm blanket on the couch. He wanted to take it so bad, imagining the miracles such fabric would make against the cold nights.

"It's okay, but you're not leaving without the promised meal. Speaking of that, I think it's ready. Come on," Tony offered, putting a hand on the kid's shoulder, guiding him to the kitchen, where Steve was filling a bowl with what seemed to be soup.

"Look who is awake," Tony announced when he entered the kitchen, catching the attention of his husband.

"I made you some soup, son, sit down," Steve said warmly, putting down the bowl on the table along with a piece of bread.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have bothered you, Sir," Peter began saying after noticing that food had been made just for him. Steve just interrupted him. "Nonsense, son; it was no trouble at all. I won't allow you to refuse this meal," he argued, pushing a chair for Peter to sit.

Peter looked between the man and the soup, torn about what to do, but ultimately, his hunger won. He knew it was dangerous to accept random people's food, but Peter was hungry, desperate, with no money and almost no blood in his body. He needed this, and it looked like this couple didn't have a drop of evil in them, so it was worth the risk.

He sat down in front of the bowl, and just the smell made his mouth water. He shakily picked up the spoon, fighting the urge to just pick up the bowl and eat the contents in one go. But the moment he put the spoon in his mouth, all of that went away; it was delicious, and in the starving state that Peter was in, it tasted like a five-star Michelin dish. Soon enough, he was gobbling down the food without barely chewing.

"Calm down, Peter, if you eat that fast, you're going to get sick," Peter did slow down, and if he had paid more attention, he would have realized that he had never told them his name.

"Sorry, it's just so good," he said instead.

Steve chuckled at the kid's response, glad that he was enjoying the food that he prepared for him. In a second, Steve realized that he didn't want the kid to leave. A wave of possessiveness consumed his body, in such a way that he knew that he would kill anyone who would try to take Peter away. He sighed; he knew what Tony had warned him about, and he had been right, but now it was too late. He was too attached to a boy just by feeding him soup