sixty-six.
It's 28 days after Peter's rescue and Steve train of thought always ended up in the same place.
Every time he looked at the small boy floating around his heart and home, it was his first and last thought. When he saw the boy flinch at loud noises and stress out in long stretches of silence, it crossed his mind. Each time the boy jolted awake from a nightmare or zoned out to a memory, the words ended up on the tip of his tongue. He was itching to speak them but didn't quite know how.
When Tony came by, he wanted to speak them, but he wasn't sure if Tony was the right person to tell, considering that at this time he didn't have very much of a place in the boy's life. Tony tried to be around when he could, he wanted to be part of the boy's life, but he could only be around so much, he would only come around every once in a while. He knew that the boy was still afraid, but that lessened a little more with each of Tony's visits.
Every time that Friday alerted them in the middle of the night to one of Peter's nightmares, it was one of his first thoughts. Whenever Bucky ran down the stairs to comfort the boy, it was floating around in front of his eyes. When Nat got up to make coffee, assuming that nobody would be going back to sleep, he wanted to breathe the words like fire on a dragon's tongue.
He didn't want the boy to be a hero anymore. He didn't want to see the boy spend his life as they had; broken, bruised, having the world expect them to give more than they could. He didn't want to see the boy grow up under the public eye of spandex and camera flashes. He didn't want the boy's name tarnished in articles and newspapers and message boards. He didn't want the boy's failures to get more publicity than his accomplishments.
He rose from the bed like the never-laid-to-rest worries of the rest of the world around them and followed Nat to the kitchen. Recently, a screen had been installed in the living room that displayed nothing but the stats coming from Peter's watch in real time. It helped a lot, seeing it just during the day. Even if Peter was in the same room with them, at least they would know if Peter needed them but couldn't say.
Right now the screen showed his heart rate was elevated, almost to the point of a full-blown panic attack, but thankfully it was starting to slow again.
He looked to Nat where she leaned on the counter, and finally, in the silence around them, he let the words hang like lost friends between them. "I don't want to raise Peter in The Life anymore. I don't want him being a hero."
The way Nat's shoulders seemed to lose all of the tension they'd been holding felt like enough for Steve to know that she completely agreed with the idea before she even said it. When she did, it was quiet, like she'd almost been afraid to say something. It seemed like Steve's train of thought just picked her up along the way, as she'd been thinking about it just within the last couple of days.
"I don't either." Her tone was soft, quiet. They both knew the dangers of The Life all too well, seen it firsthand one too many times, risked their lives for the good of everyone else, and for what? The constant near-death experiences? Kidnappings? Torture? Watching those closest to you endure the same? It wasn't a life that anyone wanted.
This wasn't exactly a life that people actively wanted to be part of. Nobody just woke up one day and really decided that they wanted to be a superhero. That was a dream reserved for young children that had no idea what being a hero actually took. They thought it was about the glory and the saving people and the rewards you get for saving said people...
But none of that was real. There was no glory in being a scapegoat for the whole world. The only reward you get for saving people is to have the number of casualties thrown back in your face; the higher the death toll, the harder it hit. Even if there were no casualties, they'd still pin the damage on you. The buildings knocked down by the bad guys were your fault, every death on their hands was on yours...
With a shaking breath, he says, "Twelve people have died in Queens since Peter went missing, at the hands of people that "Spider-Man" would've taken care of... I don't want that blame on him, I don't want him to think that blood is on his hands."
Nat is quiet as she puts down her steaming hot cup of coffee, and she's still silent as she strides over to him with that swing in her hips. She's just as silent when she wraps her arms around his neck, letting her actions speak rather than her lips. 'It'll be okay' they say as they brush away his thoughts like dust on his shoulders.
He knew that she agreed wholeheartedly. They'd both been swallowed by the spotlight and spit back out again after they'd been chewed like they were nothing more than waste. They never had a choice, but Peter does. And if Peter doesn't remember being a hero, then obviously he can't go back. They're not going to train him as a hero, they're going to treat him like a son... When all of the paperwork is finished, he will be, and they'll be 100% responsible for Peter and his life.
They know that adopting him won't keep him all the way out of the spotlight, but it would help. If he wasn't a hero, the camera wouldn't be on him so much. The most media attention he might get would be from people wondering what it was like being the son of Captain America and Black Widow, or the son of The Winter Soldier. All of his attention wouldn't be about him at all, but about them.
Maybe it could be a bit annoying for Peter, but at least he wouldn't be having near-death experiences every day like they did and hopefully he wouldn't be getting kidnapped ever again. Hopefully keeping him out of The Life would keep him a little bit safer.
When Bucky came into the room with the boy in tow, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, they couldn't help but smile.