Peter and Steve watch YouTube videos The lights flickered and then dimmed down, a sign that the training had finished. Peter flopped dramatically on the floor, pretending to be more tired than he really was. Things had improved after That Week From Hell and (ex-)Cap had mellowed down—enough for Peter to dare to pull this kind of thing—but the exercises were still far from a walk in the park. Very, very far. Even from the worst parks in New York.
This time, it took Mr. Rogers—sorry, sorry, Mr. Stark-Rogers—longer than usual to come down from the control room and join him to start the feedback session. The magic of the drama had vanished by the time ex-Cap jumped down from up there and landed not that far away from Peter, so he found the kid sitting cross-legged on the floor. Ex-Cap never bothered with the stairs. He didn’t have to, so why should he. The one who did was the dog, though, a precious Border Collie that ran to pull Peter’s mask from his face so it could be properly and thoroughly licked, and that Peter had to call Rex in front of ex-Cap and Cmhere in front of Iron Man.
What would he ever do if all of them happened to be together in the same room at some point? Well, he'd say, “Come here, Rex,” as fast as possible and hope for the best, obviously.
Peter petted and cooed at the dog to pretend he wasn’t nervous. Feedback time could range from praise about his improvement to yelling about all the mistakes that could get him killed. Yelling was rare by then, but that didn’t mean Peter had stopped worrying about committing one mistake too many because he had, as ex-Cap put it, decided to suddenly get cocky.
However, ex-Cap approached with calm-yet-firm strides and a smile on his face. Not the same smile that Peter was already conditioned to fear because it meant he’d had the bright idea of letting an alien bear go all Revenant on Peter’s ass just to spice things up. This one smile was smaller, but warmer and softer. Yes, it made Peter want to scream too, but for very different reasons. This man wasn’t only his childhood hero. He was the childhood hero of his other childhood hero, which made him kind of a metahero. A metahero who now looked at him as if he were his favorite kid. Grankid. Something.
No one could blame Peter for feeling overwhelmed. (Except Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark always did.)
“Do you have anything to do later today?” ex-Cap asked.
Please, be a mission. Please, be a mission. Please, be a mission. Please, be a mission.
“No, I don’t think so, no,” Peter replied, trying to sound calm and collected. Which might have been hindered by the enthusiastic doggy tail rhythmically hitting his face, but what could he do.
“Good,” ex-Cap continued, nodding.
Please, be a mission. Please, be a mission. Please, be—
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
—oh
Well, that wasn’t the worst possible scenario either.
“Yeah, sure.”
Ex-Cap nodded. “Go change and then come down to the kitchen.” Then he turned around and walked away, making the tiniest hand signal, which prompted the dog to abandon Peter and follow his master.
Alone and with no distractions, Peter marched to the lockers, where he would take a shower and then change into his civilian set of clothes. Into his secret identity. To have one was fun more often than not, and it allowed him not only to hear his praises as he walked down the corridors in the school but also join in. Someone had started a Change.org campaign to have the Avengers recruiting Spider-Man, and it hadn’t been him. Nor Ned.
Life, at that instant, was good.
*
Longer than it should have otherwise taken him, Peter took off his mask and stuffed it in is pocket. The Avenger Tower was huge; to keep track of where everything was became difficult when one’s bad case of ‘Must Look Cool In Front Of These Important People’ flared at full at the same time said Important People guided him around to find places after getting lost for the third time. Luckily, Karen was a dear, and she provided a map and instructions on how to get to the kitchen. She also promised not to tell.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he walked in on ex-Cap stirring the contents of some pot.
Yet another piece of information he was privy to. Who would have thought Captain America knew how to cook? And not only the ‘Survival Meals For Desperate People’ as May would put it. Ex-Cap’s food wasn’t bad at all. Peter had been given some to take to school once or twice and even Michelle had proclaimed to enjoy it when she stole a bite from him. Michelle! He never told her where he got it, though.
“Got lost again?” ex-Cap asked.
“...no.” This time, it had been true. Bless you, Karen.
Ex-Cap chuckled but didn’t press the subject. He seemed to be in an extraordinarily good humor, which could only mean one thing. Two, actually, but his house arrest would still continue for a while.
“Is Mr. Stark coming over for dinner?” Peter asked, sitting down on the table.
Rex, who had been laying down on a cushion, hurried to place his head on Peter’s knees, which earned him scratched behind his ears.
“Yeah!” ex-Cap answered. “He finished closing the last deal on his business trip a few hours ago.”
This was another thing. Two of his childhood heroes turned out to be madly in love with each other. Which made the Berlin thing a lovers’ squabble. Or maybe unresolved sexual tension. He didn’t know and he didn’t plan to ask. That they trusted him with the information to be comfortable holding hands in front of him while remaining a secret for the rest of the world was enough.
Peter still thought they should go public, if only to add a new batch to the Cap videos he had to watch at school, something about accepting who you are and things like that. Everyone could recite the others by heart, and not because they liked them. Some variety would be nice. Besides, the old ones gave an entirely wrong impression of the man. Whoever wrote those scripts a) didn’t know Cap at all, and b) thought he was addressing preschoolers.
“A penny for your thoughts,” ex-Cap said as he sat across the table from Peter after turning down the fire so the soup simmered. It had to be soup; it smelled as such.
“Were you ever paid for those PSA videos?”
“Yes. Donated most of the money, though. I didn’t know you still had to suffer through those.” After I became a war criminal, pardoned or not, was left unsaid.
“Suffer is the right word. They’re so cheesy!” Peter replied in an attempt to lighten up the mood. A millisecond later he realized maybe he shouldn’t be talking to him like that, so he hastily added a, “Sir.”
Ex-Cap laughed, however. “They’re no worse than what I had to say to sell war bonds. And those were projected in movie theaters, not a small TV screen.”
Peter sighed inwardly in relief. “They’re so… not you.”
“I know. But that’s the advertisement world for you. Even back then. Ever saw them?”
“Not really, no.”
“There’s a YouTube channel dedicated to them. I got the link from a friend,” ex-Cap said before Peter could ask if he was in the habit of googling himself. Then, he asked FRIDAY to project them on the wall.
Ex-Cap had been right. The ads were so terrible and corny the both of them ended cringing and laughing at the same time. And that’s how Tony found them when he arrived.