A/N: Where Steve gets what's coming to him. 

Steve watched in horror as a careless smile crawled upon Tony's trembling features as he told him and Natasha off. Steve could only dip his head down when Tony brought up Siberia. Steve felt the horrified stares of everyone as Tony described how Steve beat up him, and his son Peter, the most innocent, kind, and loving person he knew.

Steve felt like throwing up when Tony said that after he had ordered Bucky to beat himself senseless, his son tried to kill himself. He wanted to apologize, but what good would that do now?

And Steve couldn't help the shame and worry as Tony told him that he should be happy now that he didn't have to worry about his family, the family that he abandoned because he was too hot-headed to be reasonable.

But when Tony collapsed onto the floor, he couldn't help but feel worried as Carol and Rhodey rushed him to the medbay.

Steve sat down isolating himself from everyone else. What had he done?

It was enough to live with the guilt, the guilt that seemed to disappear as Steve watched Bucky's progression, but when Tony spat everything at him, he couldn't help but feel like a bad person. He really was for doing all those things.

Flashback:

A seven-year-old Peter waddled up to Steve, red and blue blanket clutched in one hand with a firm grip and the other hand on the doorknob. Tony was out for a mission with Natasha and Clint, something about another damn HYDRA base. Steve woke up in the middle of the night to heavy sniffling that could only be one person and had one of those father switches. He woke up to see a tiny Peter at the side of his bed with tears trailing down his face and one hand having a death grip on his blankie which seemed to go everywhere he went.

Steve smiled softly as he scooped up the trembling boy and placed him on the bed next to him. Steve softly stroked Peter's curls, something he quickly learned always seemed to calm him down, "What's wrong bud?" Peter replied in a crying tone, "Nightmares. You and Dad got hurt. Never came back. Left me alone." Steve nodded understandingly, pulling the toddler close to his chest. "Oh buddy."

He softly stroked Peter's back, "Bud, it's okay. It was just a bad dream. See? I'm okay bud. And so is Dad. You just spoke to Dad before you ate dinner remember? He's fine. You can speak to him again in the morning. Papa's right here buddy. Now shut your eyes, honey. Papa's going to keep you safe. You just close your eyes okay?" Peter nodded, wrapping his small skinny arms around Steve's chest as he fell back asleep.

Steve felt a burning sensation prick his eyes as tears formed, god, he really messed up. He would admit, were it not for Peter's death, he might not have been feeling this way. After all, you only miss a song when it starts to slow.

Flashback:

Every child, at least according to Steve had this uncharacteristically aggressive hate and fear towards thin sharp objects, specifically needles. And Peter was no exception. Usually, the bright and chatty kid would be talking his ears off during the car, but this time, as Natasha would put it, he was being uncharacteristically non-hyperbal.

Steve could feel the anxiety of the ten-year-old radiating off him. Usually, this was Tony's thing, taking him to the doctor, but after a particularly rough mission, Steve offered to take him instead. But anxiety was still anxiety.

God, Steve quickly swallowed Peter's anxiety. How many attacks has he had? Let alone, how many attacks were about him?

Steve spoke trying to calm the boy's jittery nerves, "Peter, buddy, you okay?"

Peter mumbled as he picked his sleeves, both things he only does whenever he gets nervous, "Just don't like shots."

Steve nodded, remembering his childhood. His messy childhood which most nights had him back in a bed with some sort of injury. But his scrawny size didn't deter him, if anything it always encouraged him, to fight for the little guy. Cause he was the little guy himself.

Steve replied, "That's okay bud. You want to hear a secret?" He held back a chuckle at how quickly Peter's head rose because the great Captain America having a secret?!

"I used to be scared of shots too. I still am."

Peter looked mind blown at the fact that his Papa, who also happened to be Captain America was scared of needles too.

Peter nodded, throat tightening as he swallowed as Steve drove off the highway to the exit that lead to the hospital.

Inside, Peter grabbed Steve's hand, playing with his fingers as he waited, impatient, but at the same time praying that some sort of mass invasion would interfere with Captain America and then he wouldn't have to get a shot. But when has fate ever been on Peter's side?

After moments that felt like split seconds and hours at the same time a nurse with a kind expression painted on her mocha-colored skin called out, "Peter Parker?" (Fake names for safety, which obviously ends up a waste a few years later.) Steve nodded, getting up, holding Peter's hand as they followed the nurse into a room.

Those few minutes while the two waited for the doctor, Peter felt sick and he could practically hear his heartbeat. Steve picked up the boy, caressing him softly, planting a kiss on his forehead, "It's okay buddy. I need you to breathe, that's super easy right?" Take a breath, but hold it in for four seconds alright?" Peter nodded, complying by taking in a deep breath and holding it on for four counts and then slowly exhaled it out.

Steve nodded with a kind smile, "That's my boy."

And when the doctor came in with the super sharp and scary needle, it took everything within the tiny seven-year-old not to scream. Steve, taking note of this kept his strong arms enveloped around Peter, making him feel warm and safe all at the same time.

He tucked Peter's head in the crook of his neck as the doctor administered the shot, wiping the stray tears off the boy's face.

Afterwards, Steve had taken the two of them for ice cream, despite the fact that it was a cold winter day. Cause it was ice cream, y' know?

Steve felt his heart sink, collapse and break over and over as similar memories came pouring into his mind. God, he had loved that kid.

He could have only imagined how Peter felt during their last encounter in Siberia. Tears sprang in his eyes as he realized just how wrong, how messed up he was.

He and Bucky carefully crept through the Siberian base with only one mission in their minds: stop the Winter Soldiers.

What he didn't expect was for his husband and kid to reveal themselves to, offering a truce. He hadn't realized it until now but all of his attempts to meet Peter's eyes failed as he kept them downcast to the floor.

The truce has lasted a good amount of time, but both parties wished it had lasted longer. Zemo had pulled up the one thing that would make Tony go out of control, showing how his parents really died that fateful night.

And Tony, he lost it. And the fact that his husband of so long knew and never deemed it important to tell him wasn't only offensive to him, but to Howard as well. And for Tony, hiding a secret so dishonorable even against the man that had given him the chance that he has today was disgusting. And what other secrets was God's righteous man hiding?

And when he struck Bucky, Steve lost himself in that moment, charging at his husband, pummeling him with punch after punch, paying no heed to the fact that their son was helplessly watching.

And then when their son tried to break up the fight, and stop the madness before someone got seriously hurt, he had ordered Bucky to restrain him by any means necessary.

He was ordering punches and kicks to the same kid who he'd hug whenever he was scared. The same kid who always came running to them whenever he had nightmares. The same kid who taught him what it meant to be a good person.

And where did that get him now?

Peter, was dead.

Tony, hated his guts and probably would forever.

And Steve, was all alone.