AU where Peter is Tony and Pepper's bio son, and it's so happy...
Until it isn't.
This is the hydra fic so many of you have been asking about.
Hope you enjoy!
So much angst tho.
You probably will cri.
Muahahahaha.
"Hey Petey-pie." Tony cradled the small form of his baby. "What's up with you, huh? Keeping your mom up like this."
The one year old cooed, small hand patting his face.
"Yeah, you're cute. Course you are. You're my kid. Although you're half Pepper, so that might be where you get your looks."
The door creaked open behind them, and Pepper slipped in, hair falling around her face. "Did he wake you up?"
Tony stepped to her side, giving her a quick kiss. "Nah. You know how my sleep schedule is. Go on back to bed. I've got our little man."
She yawned, then bent down to kiss Peter's cheek. "Don't keep your dad up too long, buddy."
Then she kissed Tony's cheek. "Dont be up too late. I want you to get at least six hours of sleep."
Tony rolled his eyes lovingly. "Yes mom."
Just then Peter started whimpering again, sniffles turning to cries as Tony rocked him. "Hey little man, what's wrong? I need you to stop crying baby. I hate it when you cry and I can't do anything."
He sat back in the armchair, propping his son up between his chest and legs. "How about if I sing, huh? You always liked that."
"Try to remember," he began softly, rocking back and forth. "The kind of September..."
"Sir, Peter is at the door."
Tony looked up as the voice broke through the silence.
Peter was standing outside the lab door, eyes wet, thumb in his mouth.
He moved quickly to the door. "What's wrong with him?"
"I believe he had a nightmare, sir."
Tony sighed. "Why didn't you let him in?"
"Because you were on the 'Do Not Disturb' protocol."
Tony entered the code, letting the heavy door slide open. "Add that to the list of emergencies."
He pulled Peter into his arms, lifting him, and moving to the couch near the back. "What happened kiddo?"
Peter shook his head, sniffling quietly. "Had a bad dream."
"Yeah? I'm sorry. What was it about?"
The three year old's lip trembled. "Bad men took me from you and mommy."
Tears flowed in earnest, and Tony felt his heart wrench. "Oh baby... hey, it's okay. We're right here, okay? You're here, I'm here, Mom's here... nothing's happening, okay?"
Peter nodded tearfully, burrowing closer into Tony's arms. "Can I stay with you?"
"I don't know if mom would be too happy about that, baby." Inwardly Tony knew he couldn't deny his son this.
"Please? It's scary to be alone." Peter scrubbed at his face tiredly, blinking owlishly up at him. "An' I always can sleep with you there."
Tony's heart melted. "Okay. Just this once."
His son gave a happy hum at the information, wiggling closer to his chest, and curling up against him. "Love you daddy."
"Love you too, squirt."
"Dad? Are you okay?"
The hesitant voice broke through his reverie, followed by footsteps.
"Dad?"
Peter.
He pulled himself back to reality, smiling tiredly up at his son. "Hey kiddo. Everything alright?"
Peter shrugged weakly, staring down at his toes. "Not really."
Tony sighed softly, patting the seat next to him, and putting his arm around Peter's shoulders when he plopped down. "Okay. Wanna tell me about it?"
The ten year old shook his head, staring at his hands this time. "It's stupid."
"Hey." Tony tilted Peter's chin up with a finger, eyes serious. "If it upsets you, it isn't stupid. Got it?"
"Yeah." His son swallowed quickly, then words burst out. "Do you regret having me?"
At first shock, and then anger broke over Tony. "Regret you? Peter, never. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Who told you that?"
Peter hugged himself, trying not to cry. "One of the people at school. He said that I'm just a- just a trophy kid," he said softly, voice shaking. "He said that you only want me because I get you more money."
Tony wanted to strangle them.
The kid for saying that to Peter, and Peter for believing it for even a second.
"Hey. Look at me."
The ten year old lifted his eyes, bright with unshed tears.
"You're my kid. My baby. You're worth more to me than any money, okay? Nothing is more precious than you. I love you. More than anything in the world."
A small smile lifted Peter's lips for a split second. "Even mom?"
Tony pretended to think about it. "Hmm. You two are tied."
Then he grew serious again. "I've made a lot of bad choices in my life, bud. And I regret a lot. But not you. Never you."
A second later he had an armful of crying child.
He focused on rubbing Peter's back, smoothing back his hair, and whispering soothingly in his ear.
When Morgan was born, Peter cried.
He held her as if she was the most precious thing in the world.
He kissed her cheek, and promised that he would protect her forever.
Tony woke up to silence.
Complete, and utter silence.
He was instantly on alert.
No lights could be seen, which was wrong.
He always left the light on in the bathroom, just in case Peter woke up, and-
Peter. Morgan.
He threw himself out of bed, glancing back to make sure Pepper was still there, and hurried down the hall to Peter's room after checking to see three year old Morgan in her crib.
The door was open, and Peter was gone.
His son, his twelve year old innocent child, was gone.
"Your next mission is in Russia."
"Your next mission is in Romania. Your target is Margaret Carson."
"Your next mission is in Germany."
"Your next target is in France."
"Your next mission-"
"Your next target-"
The asset stared up at the ceiling, eyes empty, hands loose by his sides.
Time passed.
He didn't know how much.
He couldn't ask.
That led to more pain.
He couldn't remember anything about his life.
Only his name.
But he pretended not to know that either, because when he told them that, it was beaten into him that he was not that person, he belonged to them, and he would never leave.
Then a little girl was brought into his cell.
Her dark hair covered her face partially, and her hands were curled into fists, white with pressure.
They stared at each other for hours, neither daring to make a move.
Until the door opened, and a tray of food was shoved in.
Same old food as always.
Literally.
Old.
Stale bread, left over cuttings of meat, and wilted vegetables with one cup of water.
Even the water tasted rusty, although he had gotten used to it.
He could faintly hear the girl's stomach growling, and he hesitated before grabbing one of the pieces of bread, wrapping it around a chunk of meat, and approaching her.
She shrank away as he approached, eyes wide with terror until he crouched in front of her, offering the food. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he said quietly, voice rusty with disuse.
Slowly, she reached out, taking the food from his hand, and taking a small bite.
It was gone within seconds.
He offered another one.
She ate that too.
He ate the rest after she refused another.
Then they watched each other again.
Less scared this time, the girl crept over to the cot, climbing up, and settling herself against the wall beside him. "My name's Morgan," she informed him quietly. "What's yours?"
"Peter."
A small hand patted his cheek insistently. "Peter."
Again. "Peeeeter."
"Peter... Wakey Wakeeeeey."
He finally rolled over, eyes squinted to see the six year old standing above him. "Come on, Morgan. What have I told you about waking me up early?"
She pouted. "Not to."
"Exactly." He waited several seconds before relenting, patting the bed beside him. "C'mere bug."
They had been in the cell together for weeks now.
Food was delivered twice a day, which they split, and each of them were hustled out for a cold shower once a week, Peter guessed.
It was hard to tell the time there.
"I miss my mommy and daddy." Morgan sniffled quietly. "I wanna go home."
"I know kiddo. I bet they miss you."
"Do you?"
The question came seconds later.
Peter blinked. "Do I what?"
"Miss your mommy and daddy."
A faint memory flitted through his mind of golden hair, dark eyes, and laughter.
A feeling of being loved.
"I don't remember them."
He tried, but they had taken his memories from him.
"But I miss them, yeah."
Morgan nodded softly, burrowing into his side. "I think they miss you too."
Faint flashes of stories, told with a kiss on the forehead.
"Your next mission is in New York. Your target is-"
The first time he had to go on a mission after Morgan, she screamed when they took him away.
"Please don't go! Peter-"
When he got back, the cell was empty.
Distant explosions shook the building, faints screams echoing through the halls.
The cell door exploded inward, and a man stepped through. "You the kid Morgam is talking about?"
Peter watched him warily. "Depends on if you're planning to capture me."
A short laugh broke the tension. "Nah. Kid keeps going on about how you took care of her. Figured Stark would want to thank you."
Morgan was the first thing he saw when they entered the jet that these people had come on.
He wasn't a stranger to them.
The Avengers.
His handlers had often talked about how much they wanted to kill them.
But anyway.
The six year old was quiet, curled up in the lap of a dark haired man.
He looked familiar somehow...
"Morgan?"
Peter glanced back at the man who brought him as he called Morgan's name.
Morgan looked up, immediately squealing and racing over to throw her arms around him.
He crouched the absorb the impact, rocking back slightly as she barreled into him. "Hey kiddo. You okay?"
She nodded rapidly. "We're going home! My daddy came to rescue me!"
The dark haired man approached, eyes wary. "Yeah, Morgan, come here."
Peter stood up, letting Morgan down. "I'm not going to hurt her."
The second light touched his face, the man stumbled back as if he'd been hit.
The teen raised his eyebrows. "Uh... you good?"
"Tony?" A red haired woman- Natasha Romanoff- moved forward, easing him into a seat. "Deep breaths."
A tall blond man approached, posture businesslike. "Can you tell me your name, son?"
"I'm not your son," Peter said lightly. "But sure. I'm Peter."
At the name, the dark haired man's- Tony Stark, he now realized- breathing quickened.
"All right. Can you give me a last name?"
"Nope. Sorry."
A sigh. "You can't or won't?"
Peter shrugged, keeping an eye on Stark. "Can't. Don't remember anything. Is he okay?"
The blond glanced back. "Yeah. You just- remind him of someone. Anyway. Do you know who we are?"
The teen scoffed. "Everyone knows who you are. You're Captain America. He's Tony Stark. Guy flying the plane is Clint Barton. She's Natalia Romanova, or Natasha Romanoff now. Guy over there asleep is Bruce Banner."
"Okay." Rogers seemed to hesitate. "We're taking you to Shield. They can find your family."
"No."
All eyes turned to Stark, who had regained some semblance of control. "No." He said again. "He's coming to the tower. You know as well as me that Fury doesn't have anyone's best interests at heart except his own. He helped Morgan. We can help him."
Natasha squeezed his arm. "Are you sure? I know he looks like-"
He shook her off. "Yes."
The tower, as he called it, was literally a tower.
Peter couldn't find it in himself to stop gawking, attracting a slightly amused glance from Stark, who was carrying Morgan.
"Never seen a tower before?"
Peter shrugged. "I've been to the Eiffel Tower, so... not that impressive. Does seem familiar though. Might have seen it on the screens."
Stark nodded slightly. "Yeah. Probably."
He didn't say anything else.
The penthouse seemed cold.
Impersonal.
Them they got farther in, and life showed in the things around them.
A jacket, thrown over the couch.
A book, open, and beside a cold cup of tea or coffee.
Sparkly pink shoes.
Worn pillows and couch.
Crayon pictures.
Although some of the pictures didn't look like something a six year old would be able to draw.
There was a brown bear wearing red and gold.
A boy, brown haired and smiling, posing with the Starks.
He was shaken out of his thoughts by a deliberate cough.
Stark was standing behind him, eyes distant as he gazed at the pictures. "Let's get you down to the medbay. I'll run some tests. See if I can find put who your family is."
Looking around, he realized Morgan wasn't there.
Stark seemed to notice, and briefly smiled. "She ran to get something. Pepper's on her way."
A flash of a memory broke through.
"Please just go. We'll be fine here. You can take a night off!"
"Okay, okay. I love you both."
Morgan reappeared shortly, carrying a small brown bear- the one in the picture, he guessed- under her arm.
"I got him so Peter wouldn't be scared!" She chirped, not noticing how her father's face paled, or the way he stiffened.
"Morgan-" Peter hesitated. "I think you need to put the bear back."
"But he was my brothers favorite toy! He can make you feel better. His name is-"
"Bobo."
She blinked at him. "How did you know his name?"
"I don't know," he whispered softly.
"Come with me." Tony's voice was hard, brooking no argument. "Morgan, go to your room."
"But daddy-"
"Now," he snapped, before sighing, and dropping to his knees in front of her. "Please, baby. I need you to do this. Then I'll come back for you. Okay?"
Her lip trembled. "But I missed you."
He inhaled sharply, letting it out slowly. "I know baby. I know. Just- okay. Okay, come on. Both of you."
He picked the six year old up, holding her close, and tilted his head toward the hallway. "Come on Peter."
A grimace touched his face as he said the name. Not disgusted, but pained.
The teen followed silently, marveling at the high tech lab. "So this is your lab? I thought it would be bigger."
Tony huffed. "Yeah yeah. Everyone's a critic. This way."
He put Peter on a table, with Morgan beside him, and rifled through one of the drawers. "You afraid of needles?"
Peter shrugged. "A needle isn't the worst thing that's been stuck in me, so no."
The older man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Can you not just say stuff like that? I have a heart condition, you know."
"Sorry." The teen actually sounded apologetic. "I'm used to being around them. They didn't care what I said as long as I did their work."
The needle glinted as Tony held it up. "Yeah, well. Just try to not say that kind of thing in front of my six year old daughter."
Then the teen looked truly guilty, glancing down to where Morgan was resting against his side. "Yeah. Sorry."
"Just- stop apologizing."
"Yes sir."
"And don't call me sir. Makes me feel old."
Peter barely flinched as the needle went in, slowly filling with crimson. "So why are you so interested in me?"
Several seconds of silence passed before the man answered, voice heavy, eyes on his task. "No reason in particular. You just remind me of- my son."
"Huh. Is he here?"
The words seemed to pain Tony, and he sighed defeatedly. "No. He went missing three years ago. You look like him. And you're someone's kid, and if someone found my kid, I'd want them to take care of him."
"Oh." Peter swung his legs dejectedly. "I don't think I have a family."
"Course you do," Tony said softly. "Everyone does. You just might not remember them."
"I do remember them. Sort of. I don't remember them, but I remember things about them. Loud music and playing with metal scraps. A stuffed bear. A blue and red blanket. Just little things like that."
Tony hummed, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Yeah. Maybe I can call Steve, ask him to bring Wanda. She could probably help. Fri, check for a match anywhere."
"That will take several minutes, boss."
"Now we wait."
The man couldn't seem to sit still, hands tapping against all available surfaces, pacing, muttering under his breath.
"Are you okay?" The teen piped up. "Cause you look really tense."
"Fine."
Peter blinked at the abruptness, hunching his shoulders. "I'm sorry. For bringing him up."
A sharp beeping stopped the older man from answering, as he studied the results.
What he read made his face go white.
"Daddy?" Morgan slipped over to his side, small hand reaching up to grab her father's. "Daddy what's wrong?"
His eyes raised, empty, but at the same time, full of pain.
"Peter," he breathed.
There will be a part two.