How Far We've Come

Chapter Eleven

Tony's phone kept going off in his pocket.

"MJ says she hasn't heard from Peter today. Ditto on Ned. Ned offered me hourly updates, but I opted out." Tony turned to Steve. "Anything from the team?"

Steve hated texting more than Tony hated decaf, but he'd painstakingly sent out texts to every member of the Avengers about his son's whereabouts. "Nothing."

"We'll find him."

Steve wasn't worried about them finding Peter. Not at all. He was much more worried about what he and Tony would do, would say, when they did find him.

"Tony, what are we going to do?"

Tony knew what he meant without him clarify. "Figure it out as we go. He's our son. Maybe there's some parental instincts that'll kick in. And there's always the internet and whatever resources money can buy, right?"

Steve knew Tony was right. He was always right. He was Tony Stark, and if someone could figure it out, it was him.

Unfortunately for Steve, Tony was just as worried and confused and clueless as his husband.

#

Peter finally settled on an empty classroom in the newly renovated honors section of the school.

It felt weird and wrong to take a nap in the back of a classroom, but his legs wouldn't make it all the way back to the tower. His eyes and head weren't correct either. So he pillowed his head on his arm, curled up facing the wall, and closed his eyes.

Peter was so consumed by anxiety over his escape from the tower and the constant pulse of his hunger that he hadn't noticed the blonde woman lurking in the hallway when he came in.

"Peter!" Came Steve's voice. "What are you doing?"

Peter's stomach sank further. "Pops, just leave me-"

By the time his Spidey sense kicked in- SOS painting itself on the inside of his eyelids as Peter realized the voice was Steve's but the steps were too light, too slow- a syringe caught him at the base of the neck and he didn't stand a chance.

His vision swam as Mockingbird, who was much more than a tech billionaire's girlfriend, rolled him onto his back and smiled down at him. She was still wearing her Greek letters with her blonde hair in a perfect messy bun.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. I know your dads."

For the umpteenth time this week, Peter passed out.

#

Maybe it was parental instinct. Maybe it was superhero instinct.

Either way, a few blocks from their stop, Tony sat straight up and let out a string of expletives more colorful than Manhattan Pride.

Steve leaned forward and tried to get his husband to meet his eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Because Tony couldn't explain it. It was an electrical current popping along his spine. A voice murmuring that he needed to get to Peter right now. "Nothing, I'm just jumpy."

Steve put a hand on Tony's neck and kneaded his fingertips into his wire-tight muscles. It helped, a little.

When I get my hands on you, kid, Tony thought, you're grounded until you're old enough to move into assisted living.

I just want him to be okay, Steve thought. I just need him to be okay.

When they got to Queens, both heroes were on their feet before the bus sidled the curb.