Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

I Lost the Kid part 3

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?"