A/N: If you know where the song title is from I love you even more than I already do

Peter Stark-Rogers yelled as he threw a silk web forward at a Chitauri, “Hey guys, what’s going on?”

The voice of his papa aka Captain America replied as grunts and blasting sounds followed not too long after, “Peter? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at school.”

“Yeah,” said Peter as he threw a punch at a Chitauri soldier, effectively knocking it out unconscious, “But there’s aliens, so like why not? Besides, I’m only missing gym papa, I hate gym.”

The worried voice of none other than New York’s most famous and iconic billionaire, philanthropist, ex-playboy, genius, “Pete, this is something really dangerous, we don’t want you to get hurt kiddo. I think you might want to sit this one bambino, FRIDAY’s reading the tech and it’s dangerous even for my suit.”

Peter countered while dodging blasts, “I’ll be careful, I promise. Besides, you guys are kinda outnumbered, no offense.” peter, hearing that from you doesn’t mean much at all ngl. 

Steve’s tone was thick with patriotism and freedom as he settled, “Fine, Peter you can stay, but you’re not leaving either mine or your dad’s sight.”

Peter could work with that. He replied while disarming yet another alien soldier, “Deal.” He got to work, knocking out as many soldiers as he could while staying under either of his parents’ line of vision. Luckily, to make matters far easier, Thor appeared. 

Peter breathed out, “Thank Odin’s beard.”

Thor thundered in reply, “Thank Odin’s beard indeed Man of Spiders! The Chitauri get another ass-wooping by a mighty king! Shall we best again, mortal fools?” He chucked (yeeted) his axe as electricity shot out of his fingertips while he screeched a battle-cry, “YEET!” 

Peter laughed as the axe went spinning, obliterating every Chitauri in sight. It was so poetic, Peter nearly shed a tear of two. The sound of a blast almost hitting him brought him back to reality. “Woah there Karen,” the Avenger quipped, “I get you want to speak to the manager, but it’s not me.” He drawled while throwing a spin-kick, “I promise!”

He continued his charade while ducking and breaking wrists, “Can’t we like talk this out? Like two bros?”

Deadpool chimed in helpfully while drinking what Peter assumed to be bleach or poison, one of the two, or chimichangas in a milkshake which was just plain right disgusting, “Or do you mean like two bros chillin’ in a hot tub five feet apart cause they’re not gay? Although the tension present in that video indicates the contrary, a very high gayness. A gay radar. A gaydar. How’s it going Spidey? Or, they’re social distancing! Because of the corona!”

Peter tilted his head, giving a pointed look despite his mask concealing his face, “What do you mean by social distancing and corona?”

The katana-donning man’s eyes narrowed, “You’ll soon find out.” The X-Men then  took a long swing of his drink and then hopped off replying, “Bye bitches!”

Peter only looked where Deadpool was sitting as he retorted, “Well that was weird.” The sound of replulsors coming from the Iron Man suit brought him back to reality. Just as Peter was about to duck, a Chitauri fired a blaster at him, effectively hitting him in the chest. 

The blast was so strong that it sent Peter flying off the rooftop into a freefall. Peter groaned as his vision suddenely blurred and a sharp stinging sensation took over his form, ow, that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick. Everything happened quickly, him then realizing that he shot, and falling, and then right after, his dad appeared out of nowhere, catching the teenager before he’d crash onto rock-hard concrete. 

Tony’s voice was gentle, but dripping with even more worry than Peter was normally accustomed to, “Deep breaths bud, you’re okay. Dad’s got you.”

Peter mumbled incoherently, still processing the fact that he was shot, let alone that he just got shot off a building, “Hurts a lot Dad.”

Tony moved a hand to squeeze one of Peter’s while the other moved to apply pressure on the blood that was seeping out of Peter’s chest, “FRI, give me vitals stat, please.”

Peter didn’t really pay attention to what his father’s AI was saying, more focused on the fact that there was a lot of blood coming out of him. He winced as his father moved both hands to where he was bleeding. He couldn’t make out exactly what Tony said next, but heard something along the lines of, “Steve, we need to get him to the medbay, fast. He’s losing a lot of blood. FRI’s getting Clint, Wanda, and Bruce here, we’re going to need you over here.”

It was comical, almost out of a page of a magic book, Peter saw his papa appeared. His papa knelt by his side, moving a hand to card through his hair. Steve gave Peter a concerned look while he squeezed one of Peter’s hands, “I told you to be careful bud, hey stay awake Pete.”

Pete slurred as black dots threatened his vision, “m sorry, ‘m sleepy papa.” Everything became blurry and someone was speaking but Peter couldn’t tell who was saying what as he mumbled, “Huh?”

Right after Peter said that, a calloused hand moved to his chin, and stilled his head. Then, Peter was able to match the voice to his papa’s. Peter slurred with a faint smile, “Hey papa.”

Steve wore a comforting smile as someone started to lift Peter up, who, the boy couldn’t tell. The last thing he heard before blacking out was someone say, “We got you bud, up we go. Keep those eyes for me, attaboy. Tony!”

When Peter did wake up, he found himself still in his dad’s arms as the Stark-Rogers arrived at the medbay. Helen was already set up, saying something along the lines of himself and a gurney. Once he was lowered onto the bed, his gaze caught a needle, and then panic instilled in his chest. 

He bolted upright, and almost fell off the bed in the process. Two pairs of arms moved to catch Peter, one catching him by the shoulders so Peter couldn’t escape, and the other holding his hands in theirs. 

Peter slurred as he buried his head against Steve’s chest, “No needles. No needles.” His voice was quiet and strained, the boy didn’t have the energy to speak louder than a whisper. He pleaded softly, voice barely above a rasp, “Papa, please no needles. Dad?”

Steve wrapped his arms around Peter when he felt his shirt become wet, “Hey, it’s okay, I got you. Buddy, I know you hate needles, we really do. But we gotta take them once in a while, it’ll help you feel better.”

Tony continued while looking into Peter’s watering chocolate-colored eyes, “It’ll be alright kiddo, me and papa are going to be here with you the whole time. I promise. You don’t even have to look, it’ll be over before you know it. You’ve been doing so good, so good kid, can you be brave a little longer?”

Peter felt like crying more. Everything hurt and the idea of being hurt again, especially from his irrational but very big fear of needles made him feel like crying harder. But the way that his papa was holding him, and how his dad was looking at him, promising him that it would be okay, the fourteen year old didn’t have the heart to tell his fathers otherwise. So he sucked in a waterily breath and nodded his head. 

The teenager mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, “Can I hold your hands, please?” 

Steve set Peter back down, one hand resting on the side of Peter’s face, indirectly forcing the teenager to keep his eyes on him and not on what was about to happen. Tony interlocked his fingers with the the hand that his husband was holding as he cooed while brushing the hair out of his son’s eyes, “That’s my boy. Peter’s so strong, and then we can do whatever you want.”

Steve offered kindly while his digits carded Peter’s hair, “You can close your eyes sweetheart. Would you like us to count for you?”

Peter’s eyes were ridden with panic but he nodded anyways. Peter gulped, Adam’s Apple bouncing heavily against his throat while his dads’ continued to play with his sweat-plastered hair. “Yes please.”

Helen offered kindly as she rubbed alcohol over where she’d have to put the needle in, “If you like, I can do it slowly or quickly, it’s up to you.”

Peter answered with a sniffle, “Quickly, please.”

Helen let out a hum of approval as she held the needle above Peter’s arm. She flashed Tony a look as she started, “Ready? One.”

Peter’s lips immediately went dry, “I can’t-”

Steve interrupted as he squeezed Peter’s hand tightly, “Yes you can, sweetheart, we’re right here.”

Tony added with a soft smile as he planted a soft kiss to Peter’s forehead, “That’s right, bambino. You’re doing so good, so good bud. Almost done.”

Helen’s voice mixed with the fray, “Two.”

Peter felt like he was going to be sick. His eyes fluttered shut as he squeezed his dads’ hands tightly just as Helen calmly concluded, “Three.”

“Ouch,” Peter said as he suddenly felt very heavy and then succumbed to the darkness. 
…

When Peter woke up, he felt lighter than he did before. The teenager slurred as he blinked in an attempt to get adjusted to the bright lights of the room, “Dad? Papa?”

Peter groaned as he moved to sit up, but something kept him down, preventing him from reaching that objective. Once Peter’s chocolate-colored eyes were fully open, the boy realized that Steve was keeping him from sitting up. 

Steve wore a loose smile as he spoke, “Take it easy bear, you’re going to tear your stitches.”

Peter giggled as the light-headed feeling increased and words spilled out of his mouth without processing what was coming out, “Stitches? Ha! I’m a badass now! My first scar!” Peter immediately frowned as he tilted his head to the side, and the mess of the boy’s hazel curls only made the teenager look even more adorable. He asked quizzically, “How did I get stitches?”

Tony answered with a chuckle towards Peter’s bedhead, “You got shot by an alien blaster. How are you feeling?”

Peter laughed as he replied with a big grin, “Floaty. Like a bubble. Heh, floaty. Floaty.” His words still slurred despite his child-like laughter. 

Tony chuckled, “Peter, you silly goose, you know that?” He ruffled Peter’s hair, unable to not laugh at the adorable expression on his teenage son’s face, “You scared us back there kiddo, you almost gave your old men heart attacks.”

“Sorry,” said Peter floppily, “it’s not my fault bad guys are stupidheads.”

“Stupidheads?”, quirked Tony as he raised an eyebrow while looking at Steve who wore a very amused grin. (like when hes at the theather in catfa yeah that one)

Peter nodded as his voice thickened with slur, “Yeah, stupid dum dums.” The Stark-Rogers moved to sit up again, but Steve kept him back down. 

Steve spoke firmly yet kindly, “Easy there bambino, no getting up mister. Helen said you have to stay and rest for a whole day.” 

Peter whined as he crossed his arms across his chest, “A whole day? Papa, ‘s not fair. Wanna go!”

Steve shook his head, biting his lip to hold back the smile that was growing on his lips, “No can do buddy-o.”

Peter groaned in defeat while his dad moved the chocolate-colored locks of hair that somehow managed to fall back onto his face, “Papa, that’s not even a real rhyme.”

Steve’s voice was stern but had amusement behind it, “Peter.”

Peter pouted as he crossed his arms across his chest, “Papa.”

Tony laughed as Steve exclaimed softly as he would do when Peter was younger, “Peter!”

Peter matched his father’s tone, “Papa!”

Sensing that this match would go on for a while, Tony offered, “You stay in bed, and we’ll cuddle. How’s that for a deal, kiddo?

Peter pondered the offer and caved in. “Deal,” he said while making room for his dads. “But I get a dad sandwich then. No takebacks.”

A/N: I've started working on the requests, and I got a few ideas of my own that I'm rlly eager to get to, so pls be patient with meh. Love y'all 3000.