How Far We've Come

Chapter Six

Steve was back to his routine, morning runs and family time and all the other Captain America duties. Tony stumbled into bed right before the sun, murmuring equations until he fell asleep, mysterious mechanical grease always smudged somewhere on his person. Peter was still getting good grades and spent more time out with Ned than ever.

Except, he wasn't always out with Ned.

Sometimes, he was just out.

Walking, running, hiding. Anything but sitting around the tower idle. Because the moment he was idle, the moment his mind got to wander... all he could think about was food. Healthy foods like apples and carrots, unhealthy foods like cheese fries and pepperoni pizza.

His mind was a constant cycle of cultish chanting about food. When he could eat, how much he could eat, what he needed to do before he could eat.

It was as exhausting as it was exhilarating.

And thanks to the Spidey genes, he was already seeing progress.

It wasn't much, but it was there. The ripple of a rib when he turned a certain way in front of the mirror. A glimpse of muscle where muscle hadn't been visible before.

It was crazy but it was real.

He was gonna be fit. Buff. Muscle-y.

Peter was finally going to look like a hero. Like one of his dads.

He could finally help keep them safe. What happened on the last mission... To Pops.

Peter was going to help make sure it didn't happen again.

#

Peter had been gone for a few hours, out on one of his walks, when he came back to find the tower a complete disaster.

Tony was screaming at someone in the kitchen, a splatter of red across his chest.

"Dad!" Peter ran to his side, looking for the wound. "Dad, what- is this spaghetti sauce?"

Tony groaned and glanced down, just noticing his shirt looked he had been shot. "Oh, well, fuck. Steve, you got sauce all over my shirt, you perv-"

"Tony, we're married. Enough with the constant accusations!" Steve had a miraculously similar stain on his own shirt, slightly lower, almost like-

"Were you two making out while making dinner?" Peter shrieked. His dads were so gross. So, so, so gross. "C'mon!"

Steve held his hands up, the sauce smear all over the front of his shirt the only thing Peter could focus on. "Peter, we were just-"

Tony smirked and held up a sauce spoon, a dirty, dripping one Peter hadn't noticed earlier. "I asked Pops here to taste the sauce and he opted to taste something a little bit more savory-"

Steve and Peter shouted at him in perfect unison.

"Fine, fine!" Tony walked off, murmuring to himself before shouting over his shoulder. "I'm getting a clean shirt before Peter has an aneurism. I'll grab one for you, too, Captain."

Steve glared at Tony's back before dropping his face into his hands. "I hate it when he says it like that."

Peter shook his head. "I'm not talking to you for a couple of minutes, Pops. I'm kind of scarred."

Steve thumbed at a spot of sauce on his hand before lifting it to his mouth and licking it off. "At least the sauce tastes good. Want to try it?"

Yes, please. I'm starving. "Nah, I'll just have some with dinner."