Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

hold me close (and never let me go)

A/N: small and simple oneshot. It's simple cause I have mercily decided to spare you of angst, being that the last ones were angsty.

Peter tossed and turned in his bed, feeling his body become sleepy, but his mind kept on thinking about different thoughts, about the TV show he was watching, the book he was reading, what he was going to do tomorrow, Uncle Bucky coming for a visit. He let a soft sigh slip through his lips as he pulled his stuffie closer to his chest, hoping that the fuzziness of his stuffed animal would soothe his brain into some peaceful slumber. He waited for his brain to stop thinking and for his eyes to just stay shut when he gave up, letting out an exasperated sigh and threw his pajama-clad arms out to his side. 

He whispered to his stuffie, being the toddler that he was, “Timmy, what should we do? I can’t sleep.”

He pretended to ponder the matter and resonated his voice to a higher pitch to voice his stuffie’s thoughts, “We could go to Papa, he always makes everything better.”

Peter smiled, petting his stuffie fondly, “You’re so smart Timmy. Just like Papa.”

The four year old slowly sat up, going to the one person that always had a solution for his problems no matter how big or small he was. His Papa would make it better, just the presence of his Papa always made him feel better, and it would surely work this time. So, he slipped out of his pastel covers, one hand wiggling his stuffed fish Timmy right behind him. 

He carefully crept through the darkness, careful not to wake his Papa, and gently opened his Papa’s bedroom door. He found his Papa sound asleep, dirty blonde hair disheveled and messy as his covers engulfed him, making the man appear to be smaller than he actually was. The man was lightly snoring, with a hand outstretched in case he was needed at any hour of the night by a select toddler. 

Peter tiptoed to the much bigger bed, and wiggled himself to the top, needing some assistance to climb the bed. He frowned, unable to reach the top of the mattress. He decided to reach for his Papa’s arm and use it to pull himself up. 

Once he got to the top, he carefully wrapped his Papa’s outstretched arm over him, so he was snug and secure against Steve’s chest. The toddler quietly wiggled his way under the covers, so his small frame was leaning against Steve’s chest. 

Leaning into his father’s warmth already made him feel more sleepier, when he heard his Papa slur, “Pete, you okay?” Peter could tell his Papa was still asleep, as he shifted the boy, pulling him closer to his chest so both of his arms were around the toddler, gently rocking him in the spooning position. 

Peter murmured softly, “Yeah, couldn’t sleep. So I thought I could sleep with you.”

Steve replied softly, “Course you can sleep with me. You can sleep with me whenever you feel like it. Feeling better now?”

Peter nodded as Steve’s warmth enveloped him, “Yeah Papa. You’re warmer.” He poked Steve’s chin, “And Timmy says that you’re softer than the pillow.” 

Steve let out a soft chuckle as he rubbed Peter’s cheek, “Alright kiddo, get some sleep okay? Tomorrow I’ll make Captain America pancakes since Uncle Bucky’s coming, alright?”

Steve didn’t hear a response, prodding him to open an eye to find Peter sound asleep, tucked between his arms and his stuffie. He couldn't help the smile that overcame his features as he planted a soft kiss to the top of Peter’s head, whispering softly, “Sweet dreams kiddo.”