Peter jolted his head up, the loud, screeching noise getting to him despise the music blasting in the headphones. That kind of scream could mean only one thing.
His and his dad's project was completed and they successfully recreated a breathing, living pterodactyl.
Feeling a rush of excitement, Peter turned around on the swivel chair, abandoning his biology homework, trying to leap out of his chair, just to be yanked back, when the cord from the headphones held him back. Damn the day he lost yet another pair of Starkpods and his dad refused to gift him new ones. He shook the headphones off and rushed out of his room, following the screeching, eyes shining in excitement of seeing the flying reptile and -
And being painfully let-down when he saw the reality. Scratch that, he definitely didn't want to see that reality. Eye bleach should be a thing.
On the couch were his parents and at the first sight, it looked like Iron Man and Captain America got into a fight and were wrestling. The truth was very different, and Steve, with the widest grin spread across his face, kept reaching hands forward and grabbing at any part of Tony with tickling fingers, Tony letting out a screech each time the move was successful, guarding himself.
"Eh," Peter whined in disappointment, leaning over the door frame, longingly looking at the ceiling and imagining the pterodactyl circling around it. That would be quite a sight.
"Hm?" Steve heard the sigh and briefly turned his head around, shining a grin at the teenager. "Hi, son!" He said, still climbing on Tony and causing Iron Man to squawk and giggle.
"Pete! Get hihihihim off!" Tony squeaked, trapped under his husband and uselessly trying to bat away the attacking hands.
Peter looked back at his parents, some irritation mixing with a fond feeling. He heard Steve teasing Tony about asking their son for help, Tony trying to snark back, but the offensive comment got lost in another wave of laughter Steve proudly caused.
Of course, there was something awfully disturbing about the image he was seeing, but he thought back to his school friends, coming from divorced families, dividing their time between two arguing parents. This was better than arguing. He was lucky his parents were as much in love as they were - well, since he could remember. He didn't know how it was before he came into the picture, but he heard enough stories from uncle Clint and aunt Natasha to know that his parents were always pretty handsy with each other. Even if deep down, seeing his parents in love made him happy, it didn't mean Peter couldn't complain about it.
"You know," Peter said loudly, crossing arms on his chest, "I wish you two would act your age."
Steve laughed loudly, hearing the complaint and Tony laughed too, although from a different reason. "If I acted my age, which is well over one hundred years old, I would be a pile of dust!" And then he gasped, having an idea, and fell limp, like a sack of potatoes, right on Tony who yelped in pain, smothered with his husband's weight.
"OOF! Steve, what the-!" Tony demanded explanations, his whole face heated from the stopped attack and too much laughter. Peter heard his parents talking, hearing the phrases 'one hundred years old' and 'a pile of bones' repeated when Tony sucked in an outraged breath and looked at Peter with faked anger. "You killed your father!"
"Yes, I killed my father," Peter agreed, rolling his eyes, "or worse, he will come back now as a zombie and terrorize us."
That was supposed to be a sarcastic remark to point out the stupidity of the situation. Too bad, Tony and Steve had no problem with sarcasm and fooling around, and soon, very stiffly, Steve lifted himself, looking at his husband.
"Braains," Steve muttered out in a hollow voice.
"There is your brain, leave my brain alone!" Tony giggled and played along, pointing at Peter.
With a snarl, Steve turned around, locking eyes with Peter and limping in his son's direction. "Braaaains..."
"Okay, very funny. Pops, I am not playing with you," Peter said firmly, standing his ground. Steve was limping closer and closer. "Pops, I said, I am not playing, stop it!" Peter tried again, some uncertain note making its way into his voice. Of course, Peter knew it was all a game. But there was something very unsettling in the way, Steve moved closer and closer, muttering in that empty voice, his head crooked to the side, eyes not blinking...
Steve launched forward, Peter screeched, and Tony laughed as he watched his husband attacking their son, holding him trapped in his arms and drilling fingers into Peter's stomach and under the arms, sometimes squeezing at the thighs and knees when Peter tried to kick him.
"POPS! STAHAHAHAP!" Peter tried to wriggle out, but he never before managed to escape Captain America's clutches and today wouldn't be the day either.
"Braaaains!" Steve continued to wallow, looking in all wrong places, not bothered by Peter's screams of protest and ongoing laughter. Or maybe it was part of the zombie tactics, to first tire the victim out and then savor the brain. Tony decided to find out, taking a moment to rest and having absolutely no intention of being involved and saving his son from his zombie husband.