Trope: Superfamily

"When's Dad gonna be back?" A 14 year old Peter asked as he shoved a spoonful of Frosted Flakes into his mouth trying to beat the clock while Steve flipped through the newspaper.

"He'll be back tomorrow afternoon. And take smaller bites, Petey." He insisted, not even looking up from the paper.

"Okay." Peter insisted, taking the last bite before looking up at the clock. "Shit! I'm gonna be late!"

"Language!" Steve shouted as his son scrambled to the sink, put his bowl in, and came back in, giving him a hug while picking up his backpack.

"Love you, Pops. See you later."

And in a flash, he was out the door, most likely running to catch up with the bus.

••••••••••••

When Peter returned home, he planned on relaxing, maybe doing some homework, but then his Pops came in with worry on his face, which concerned the teen as he walked toward him.

"Is Dad okay?"

"He's fine. I need you to suit up though. We need your help for a mission."

Peter nodded, and went straight up to his room to change into his suit, grinning ear to ear as he changed.

"If Pops needs my help, it's really serious, or he can't get in contact with Dad. Both of which are not good. Spider-Man, New York Hero."

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Peter, but Mr. Rogers still needs you and fast."

"Sorry, Karen. I'm just excited." Peter insisted as he went back downstairs and followed his father to the Quin-Jet, sitting down beside his dad.

"Are you doing the debriefing or am I?" Natasha asked as she sharpened one of her knives, which made Peter grateful that he wasn't on the wrong end of it, but then she looked him in the eyes. "Baron Strucker, a former SHIELD agent, broke in with a security code, and stole several artifacts, including vibranium. We need to find him and get our supplies back using any force necessary."

Peter nodded, and the fear started to set in. This was his first real mission with the Avengers, and if he messed up, someone could die. And that was not ideal for him.

The jet landed about twenty minutes later outside of a small base, and immediately several security guards came out with large guns, and the group started attacking them.

Peter immediately webbed onto a large tree and started webbing guys up from above, making sure not to web the guns in with the ropes, and he could hear yelling and shouting all around him, causing panic to start rising up as he kept webbing guys up from above.

'Just breathe, Peter. Calm down.' He told himself, and finished webbing up the guys running toward him, so he climbed down from the tree, and started looking around at what was unfolding around him.

Natasha was beating people up left and right, Hawkeye wasn't anywhere to be seen, but an occasional arrow would fly into someone every now and then, he didn't see Banner or Hulk anywhere, but maybe that was a good thing, and he turned around to see his Pops fighting a few guys, and that's when he saw it.

Baron Strucker was quietly approaching behind his father with a large pistol drawn, and ready to fire.

Peter ran toward him, grabbing his father and tackling him to the ground, with a large "Bang!" Filling the air.

Everything stopped for a second. He was on the ground, arms wrapped around his father, who was also on the ground, Natasha had taken Strucker down and was restraining him and then everything came rushing back to full speed.

A burning pain came flooding him, and caused him to cry out, which immediately made Steve freak out as he adjusted and propped Peter up against him.

Then Peter looked down, and saw the blood.

"Petey, eyes up here." Steve insisted as he gently turned his masked face toward his, meeting his eyes with his. "Don't look at it. Just look at me."

"I't burns..." Peter whimpered as he curled up against Steve, trying to breathe a little better. "M-make it stop..."

"We will, bud. It's gonna be okay." Steve insisted, as he gently put an arm under Peter's legs, and the other behind his back, before lifting him up, which only made the pain ten times worse. "It's okay, Petey. I've got you."

Natasha came over, gently curling Peter's fingers around a few towels, before telling Steve.

"Helen and Tony are waiting for us at medical. We've gotta get this to clot a bit once we get back on the jet. You okay?"

"I will be once he's okay." Steve insisted, feeling Peter drift off in his arms. "Peter, you have to stay awake. Listen to me, alright ?"

"S-sorry, Pops... I'm s-sorry I'm not s-strong enough..."

"Are you kidding? You took a bullet without hesitating. When you grow up, you're gonna be the strongest out of all of us."

"T-thanks, Pops..." Peter trailed off, before going limp in his arms, which caused Steve to start holding pressure on the wound while running to the jet, praying for his son to just hold on.

•••••••••••••

As soon as they reached the compound, Peter was whisked away to medical, still unconscious, and Steve was about to head straight there, but then he met the angry eyes of his husband.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Bringing our-my 14 year old son on a dangerous mission. He could've been killed! And he's still not out of the woods."

"I'm sorry, but I was desperate, and you were out of town. We needed the help, and he did a good job."

"He was shot, Steve!"

"At least I'm giving him a chance! You're sending him on all these baby missions, and he just wants to prove himself!"

"I don't want him dead!" Tony shouted, his face almost bright red, but, he stopped, and sat down, putting his head in his hands and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about him."

"I am too." Steve insisted, sitting beside his husband and putting a hand on his shoulder. "But we both know a bullet isn't gonna take him without a hell of a fight."

"Aren't you the one who is always telling Pete to watch his language?" Tony smirked as he looked back up at him, meeting a small smirk back.

"I grew up during the 20's and 30's. Trust me, I know a lot worse then hell."

"I know that, you've said it in the bedroom."Tony joked, before his expression turned serious again, and he looked down at his watch, feeling worry consume his every thought.