Work Text:
Requirements for being a good dad:
1. Don’t be Howard Stark. That’s all.
-
When Tony and Pepper announce to the team that Pepper is pregnant, the first reaction comes from Clint, who offers Pepper his condolences and then holds his stomach as his laughter dances around the room. If he weren’t in a chair, he’d be rolling on the floor right now.
Tony cracks a grin and throws a slipper at his head. Because the last thing he wants is for anyone to notice how damn nervous he is about all this, and how much he needs someone to tell him that he is not going to be a complete and utter failure.
It doesn’t help that Rhodey, Bruce and Steve all look terribly apprehensive. And Romanoff looks like Tony just announced his polygamous betrothment to Dum-E. Like she would find the whole thing amusing if she weren’t so busy being concerned about Tony’s sanity.
It wasn’t planned. Not exactly. They had been talking about it. Pepper was the one who wanted to wait a few more years, while Tony was all for it. But now it’s actually happening and he’s losing his damn mind. Because he has already read what feels like a million and one examples of how a baby can get injured: choking on a plush toy, rolling off a changing table, a hot cup of coffee left unattended. Babies are little catastrophe magnets, and mother nature didn’t even have the common sense to provide them with some natural protection gear. Nope. They come out all soft and squishy and utterly, utterly dependent.
And Tony never gets anything right on the first try. He’s a ‘try again, fail again, fail better’ sort of engineer. He always screws up the first pancake of the batch. It comes out lumpy and misshapen and burnt to a crisp.
“Ship him off to boarding school when he’s four,” Clint says. “That’s what rich people do with their kids, right?”
Tony throws the other slipper.
-
Rhodey knows all about Tony’s unusual soft spot for Spider-Man. Because there is this tiny thing Tony always says to Spider-Man, that Rhodey has never heard him say to any of his other fellow super-heroes:
“Spider-Man, be careful,” Tony warns.
“I’m always careful,” Spider-Man responds blithely, immediately followed by an “Ouch. Shit.”
Tony lets out something like a growl.
It is the second time this month that a small horde of drones causes mayhem in the city. Episode II, Attack of the drones. Is it entirely unclear where they come from and what their purpose is. They seemingly shoot at random and don’t make any evasive movements when Rhodey pursues them. Annoying, but easy to subdue.
Spider-Man was already at the scene when Tony and Rhodey flew in. Several webbed up drones have been placed in an orderly line on a nearby roof like neat little packages. Last time, Rhodey and Tony had shot them all out of the sky and only later concluded that they should have at least kept one intact so they could have dismantled it.
It seems Spider-Man has more sense and foresight than they do. A sobering realization, considering the very same Spider-Man is currently getting yanked through the air by one of the drones and singing come fly with me.
“Careful, kid!”
“Uh-uh.” Spider-Man says, and disappears behind a skyscraper. “Shit!” he yelps a moment later.
“What?” Tony immediately barks. “What’s happening?”
No immediate response, and Tony curses a blue streak.
“My ears!” Spider-Man complains.
“What?” Tony repeats, voice climbing precipitously. “What’s wrong with them, what’s happening?”
“Nothing. Uh. I just meant. You’re swearing a lot, Tony.”
“Geez Louise,” Tony says and shoots another drone out of the sky.
They deal with the horde quickly enough. Rhodey lands on a rooftop next to Tony, and retracts the helmet. “All clear? Anything from FRIDAY?”
Tony retracts his helmet, too. “Nothing but a warning about my caffeine levels.” He looks down towards the lower roof nearby, where Spider-Man is now skipping back and forth, stacking all the webbed-up drones together.
“Invite him to dinner tonight?” Rhodey asks. “I’m making puff pastries.”
-
“Can you carry this?” Spider-Man asks when Tony and Rhodey float down next to him. “Look, Tony, I bagged them up for you.” He has indeed webbed all the drones together into one big silky, sticky mess. And from the way he stands there with a puffed-out chest, it seems he is pretty damn proud of his own work.
“A-plus, kid,” Tony says.
“I almost had a heart attack when you guys flew in and started talking to me! I didn’t even know I was, like, connected to your whole communication system, Tony. I hope for your sake you can’t hear everything I say all the time when I’m patrolling. Did you hear me sing ‘wuthering heights’ yesterday? I did the dance and everything.”
“Missed out,” Tony says. “Kid. I told you our AI’s can connect any time necessary. Why— How do you still not remember that? If there’s an emergency you can connect to FRIDAY directly, okay? You don’t have to send a—a homing pigeon with an SOS message.”
“Where do you expect me to get a pigeon?”
“I don’t expect you to get a pigeon, that’s my whole point!”
“I forgot what we were talking about,” Spider-Man says.
“This was supposed to be an invitation to dinner?” Rhodey reminds his friend, because the conversation doesn’t seem to be going anywhere very productive.
“You don’t understand, Rhodes,” Tony says, shaking his head. “Because I’m going to wake up some time next month with a bloodied homing pigeon pecking at my window and then I’ll find this kid dead in a ditch. That has just become an actual possibility. Gaah.”
Spider-Man bounces on his toes. “You mean dinner with, like, all of you guys?”
Rhodey gives a nod. “At the tower. You got allergies?”
“I know his allergies,” Tony says, with a jerking motion of his hand. “Kid, I uh… Yes, you’re invited. Six o’clock. But I just wanted to tell you first, before you hear it from Clint. Pepper is pregnant.”
There is a second of silence.
“Oooh,” Spider-Man then says. “That’s so great!” And there’s something about his voice; a forced cheerfulness that Rhodey can’t really put a finger on.
It seems Tony can put a finger on it just fine, though. He steps forward and pokes Spider-Man in the chest with his left gauntlet, making him stumble back. “You already knew.” It isn’t a question.
“Sorry,” Spider-Man says, clasping his hands behind his back. “I… I heard the heartbeat last time I talked to Pepper. And the time before that too, actually. I just thought… I wasn’t sure if…”
“Wait. The time before. You mean when we were out to dinner in that Korean place? We didn’t even know then! I mean. Pepper was a week or so late, but that’s not unusual. I think she did the pregnancy test later that week.”
Spider-Man starts hopping from one leg to the other. “Sorry, Tony. Uh. Sorry. I just didn’t know--- didn’t know the right, like, social etiquette for situations like this. And reddit had no answers."
Tony closes his helmet. “I need some blue label.” His suit lifts off into the sky.
“You’ll make a really good dad,” Spider-Man calls after him.
-
They have the drones traced back to ‘The Life Foundation’ by lunch time.
“That is not ours,” one board member denies when Rhodey marches into their meeting and dumps a load of shrapnel on the table.
“So why’s your company logo on the inside of this propellor?”
“We don’t even make drones here.”
“Funny,” Rhodey says. “I don’t remember telling you this metal slush used to be a drone.”
The five board members scatter in all directions. Rhodey catches four of them. A sub-optimal score.
-
“So,” Rhodey says as he works the dough for his puff pastries. “You and Pepper go out to dinner with Spider-Man, huh?”
Tony observes, glass of whiskey casually balancing in his hand. “He can’t eat anything with too much mint or citrus fruits.”
“You go out to dinner with him and you know all his allergies.”
“Your point being?”
“What is ‘too much citrus’? Can I squeeze lemon juice on the salad?”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “It’s not even allergies. It’s something about the smell, and his senses being dialed way up.”
“Hey,” Clint calls out from where he is sitting on the couch. “Do you know his social security number too?”
“Are you eavesdropping, Legolas?”
“You’re the one who signed off on this open floor plan.”
The elevator doors slide open and a boy steps out. A rather scrawny boy with faded, frayed jeans. He stops short when he catches Tony staring at him, and his eyes flick to the clock on the wall. “Six o’clock, right?”
Spider-Man looks… a little younger than Rhodey would have hoped for.
Tony waves his hand in a circular motion. “You’re not wearing your mask.”
“Well, yeah,” the boy says. “What did you… Did you expect me to have dinner in, like, full lycra?”
Clint needs less than three seconds to leave his laptop behind and join them in the kitchen, gawking, unabashedly.
“No,” Tony says. “I mean. I didn’t think, I guess. I’m sorry, I should have at least--- You sure you wanna meet everybody? Like this?”
“Wouldn’t have come, otherwise.”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “C’mere, kid.”
The boy bounds closer and tucks himself under Tony’s arm with practiced ease, and then introduces himself to Rhodey and Clint. His name is Peter. He looks too young for a supposed college student, too fragile for a supposed super-hero, and too impressionable to be allowed in a five foot radius near Tony Stark.
“So,” Clint says, as his eyes keep flitting from Tony’s face, to Peter’s face, to Tony’s hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How’d you land yourself in this bind, kid?”
“Huh?”
“Were all the responsible mentor-figures taken?”
Peter seems to catch Clint’s drift and lifts his chin, a challenge in his gaze. “No. They all died.”
Clint doesn’t have an immediate response to that, which appears to greatly satisfy Peter. “So. Can I help you with dinner, Mr. Rhodes?”
“Don’t let him handle anything with sharp edges,” Tony warns.
-
“Which board member escaped?”
“His name is Carlton Drake.”
“Send me a picture, I’ll look out for him.” Peter runs the tomatoes under the tap. “Get my revenge on him for planning his stupid drone attacks when I’m supposed to be doing my homework.”
“Got a lot of studying to do?” Rhodey asks.
Peter’s shoulders rise and slump with his sigh. “Yeah. PSATs. They’re freaking me out. They’re the qualifying test for the national merit scholarship, and I can’t afford to go to college without it.”
“You’re… not in college?”
“I wish. Can’t wait to be rid of Lit classes.”
Rhodey throws a towel at Tony, who was squabbling with Clint on the other side of the kitchen island. It flops wetly against his cheek and Tony grapples at it.
“Honeybear - - what?”
Rhodey points a thumb at Peter. “You told me Spider-Man was in college!”
Tony sniffs. “No. I told you he had not yet graduated college. Which is technically entirely true.”
“Tony.”
“What’s in this little bottle?” Peter asks, and accidentally sprays lemon juice all over his own face.
“Geez Louise,” Tony says, and quickly moves in with the towel while Peter splutters and coughs.
-
Rhodey watches all through dinner, how Peter constantly sets the salt shaker way too close to the edge of the table and Tony constantly moves it away. How Tony subtly grips the back of Peter’s chair when the kid tilts it back to balance on two legs. How he only just manages to prevent Peter from stabbing himself in the hand with a fork.
Rhodey starts clearing away. “We have dessert, too.”
“I’m really full.” Peter looks apologetic.
“You had some salad and half a puff pastry,” Tony says with a frown. “Did you snack before dinner?”
“Yeah, dad,” Peter says with a smirk.
“Yeah, dad,” Clint echoes as he tops off his wine glass. “Yeah.”
“Got something to say?” Tony snaps at him.
“Nope. Not saying anything. This is such every day stuff. Such regular, run-of-the-mill stuff.”
-
“So how old is he exactly?” Rhodey asks.
Peter has gone home. He, Tony and Clint cracked open another wine bottle on the balcony.
“He has not yet graduated college.”
“Exactly, Tones!”
Tony glances down at his watch. “Fifteen years, two months, five days, two hours and fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—”
“Spider-Man?” Clint asks, pointedly.
“Hey. I’m not in charge of, uh, super-hero nomenclature.”
“How do his parents feel about this?” Rhodey asks.
Tony’s mouth twists a little “No comment.”
“We know how this parent feels,” Clint says, tilting his wine glass towards Tony. “We were all worried about you getting a kid. Turns out you already got one.”
Tony lets out an annoyed puff of air. “I don’t need you guys worried. Trust me, I’m worried plenty enough on my own.”
A beat of silence.
“Hey,” Clint says. “I was just messing with you. Pulling pigtails in the school-yard. I wouldn’t be messing if I actually thought you couldn’t do it. It’s not rocket science.”
“No it’s not. Because rocket science is easy.”
“You’ll be fine, man.”
“I killed our peace lily last week.”
“Okay, so don’t overwater your baby.”
Tony gets that face he always gets when he refuses to laugh at something, even if he secretly thinks it’s funny.
Clint bumps Tony’s knee with his fist. “As soon as that little nugget is out, your instincts will kick in, trust me.”
“No, I do not in fact trust you or my own instincts, and I certainly don’t trust them to magically start working at the opportune time. How am I supposed to leave the fate of a squishy soft little catastrophe magnet up to chance?” Tony refills his wine glass. “No, gentlemen. I’m going to plan this to a tee. I’m making a list, and everything.”
-
Requirements for being a good dad:
1. Don’t be Howard Stark.
That’s all.2. Teach them to be better.
3. The sky is the limit.
4. Be the superhero.
5. Whatever you do. No dad jokes.
-
May calls him in the middle of the night, as he is crawling around under his desk, looking for the damn catalytic converter. It had rolled to the floor when he turned his back for a second.
Just like a baby rolling off a changing table. Thank you intrusive thoughts.
He turns onto his back and stares up at the underside of his desk as he answers. “Miss Parker. Still up so late?”
“It’s six o’clock in the morning, Mr. Stark.” She sounds amused. “I just woke up.”
“Busted.”
“Indeed. So, Peter is coming over tomorrow, and I have a request.”
It just so happens Peter is coming over tomorrow. Peter used to spend his Saturdays and Sundays patrolling the city, using his internship with Tony only as a cover with his aunt. Tony had only recently suggested that Peter should actually come to the tower now and then, to work in the workshop together. He had been looking for a way to have the kid around on a more regular basis.
He had expected Peter to be hesitant about cutting down on his patrolling hours, but instead the kid had seized the opportunity with both hands. “This might seriously sound stupid; it gets boring being a superhero dusk till dawn,” he’d said. “But May and I have such a small place, I don’t wanna hang around there all day, either.”
“Is it his homework?” Tony asks. “Because I have been wondering if he can get it all done with all those hours he puts in here.”
“Don’t know what it is about this kid,” May says. “But his grades only went up since he started the internship. No. It’s just this little thing. It might not actually be a problem. I might be paranoid. But all parents are paranoid. Congratulations by the way, Peter told me.”
“Tell me,” Tony says, crossing his ankles. “Because I am getting paranoid.”
“I’ve just been noticing that he eats such small portions at dinner. He keeps saying he always has a big lunch at school. Maybe he does, I don’t know, he qualifies for free lunches so I’m not footing the bill.”
“Breakfast?”
“I leave before he wakes up. But I don’t exactly need to stock up on cereal every week, no. Remember when we went out to dinner at that Korean place and he ordered a side dish? Basically – Tony, does he eat when he’s with you?”
Awkward. Because Tony frankly has no idea. He is hardly a proponent of regular breaks; he too skips a lot of meals. If anything, Peter is the one who needs to remind him to at least have a glass of water every now and then.
May must sense his unease, because she rushes to add “You’re probably not keeping tabs on him at all times. That’s not your responsibility. Could you just… this weekend... a closer eye?”
“Yeah,” Tony says. Because the idea of Peter going into the city to patrol all afternoon, on an empty stomach? Not an idea that sits well.
-
Peter could definitely be described as scrawny; cheeks a little hollow, sweater hanging loose off his frame as he sits hunched over the work bench…
“Stop staring at me!” Peter complains. “I’m not gonna blow anything up this time!”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” The kid had managed to cause an explosion with only sodium, phosphorus and an accidental coffee spill. Which was somehow simultaneously an astounding scientific miracle and entirely as expected.
“Are you excited?” Peter asks. “About the baby?”
“I always burn the first pancake,” Tony says.
“Cryptic.”
“Speaking of. What do you want for lunch?”
“It’s only eleven.”
“I’m just getting our orders in early.” Not that Tony is anywhere close to hungry. In fact, he might still be a little hungover from yesterday’s whiskey. But at least his calculations are still top-notch. “Pete?”
“Can you help me with my web fluid, first? I want to do some experiments later.”
“Isn’t that how we wound up with an explosion last time?”
“Well yeah. But then you said that whole ‘try again, fail again, fail better’ thing, so. I’m gonna-- gonna maybe blow things up again, okay? I retract my earlier statement.”
Tony absolutely adores this kid.
He rolls his desk chair closer. “Just wear the damn safety goggles, okay, kid? Can you at least take some basic safety precautions to protect that squishy head of yours?”
“Yeah, dad,” Peter says.
They work on the web fluid and Peter almost blows things up merely twice. He wears his safety goggles the second time, and promptly blames them for the incident. “I can’t see properly with these on!”
“You won’t be able to see properly when you’re blind, either.” Tony points out.
“You never wear safety goggles either. You haven’t gone blind.”
“Don’t be like me, be better.”
Peter leaves at two PM to patrol the city for the rest of the day, and Tony realizes far too late that the kid managed to sidetrack the entire conversation about having lunch.
-
“What do you want for lunch?” he asks on Sunday morning.
“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with lunch?”
Tony scratches out some of yesterday’s asinine calculations. He was clearly hungover when he wrote that. “I don’t know. Why aren’t you eating?”
“My aunt called you,” Peter surmises. “That’s what this is, right? She’s been on my case.”
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Peter sighs as he drops a sample of his web fluid onto the microscope slide. Something to his right fizzles, and he isn’t wearing his safety goggles. How has the kid survived this long?
How does any kid survive these fragile years in the big bad world, with their underdeveloped brains?
“Spiders have a really slow metabolism.” Peter says.
“What?”
“Spiders have a really slow--- You know, some of them can go weeks without food.”
“You go weeks without food?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Tony chucks a pair of safety goggles into the boy’s lap. “Say something I can work with, then.”
“I have one meal a day,” Peter says as he fiddles with the goggles. “Or half a meal. Half a dinner. How am I supposed to explain that to my aunt?”
“You didn’t think it might be important to mention this to me?”
“Evidently not.”
“Put on those safety goggles.”
Peter doesn’t move. “I don’t know, Tony, it seems a little awkward to discuss with you how often I poop.”
Tony drops his notes to the table and leans in, fascinated. “How often do you poop?”
Peter’s face turns the color of a tomato. “You can’t just--- Tony!”
“Okay, kid. I know. But this is your health we’re talking about. It’s non-negotiable. Nothing about your health and safety is negotiable. You hear me?”
“Yes, dad,” Peter says, sounding more snarky about it this time.
-
Bruce has had ample practice at being a makeshift doctor for members of the team when Helen Cho is absent. This generally includes taking temperatures, stitching up wounds and recently, pregnancy check-ups with Pepper.
This generally does not include being asked by Tony to guess how often his intern poops.
“Tony!” Peter whines, cheeks flushed. He is wearing safety goggles for some reason.
“Ten bucks for whoever is closest,” Tony offers.
Peter has been a more and more frequent guest at the tower lately. Bruce always knew Tony had a soft spot for the super-hero, but he is beginning to understand that the soft ‘spot’ might in fact be more of a soft ‘continent the size of Eurasia’.
He also knows Tony would rather die than admit it. He doesn’t even like to admit that he teared up at the ultrasound of his own kid, let alone that he might have any sort of fond feelings for this pocket-cute super-hero that he appears to have found inside a kinder egg or something.
Bruce is definitely beginning to understand why Pepper so confidently told him that Tony would make a great father.
“The safety goggles,” he starts.
“Don’t. I finally got him to put them on. They’re staying on.”
Bruce lightly shakes his head. “How can I help?”
Tony walks him through the problem at hand, frequently interrupted by Peter, whose main argument seems to pivot around ‘But Tony never eats lunch either.’
Bruce just goes ahead and gets out the latex gloves. “How long have you been living on half a meal a day?”
“Since the beginning. Seven, eight months.”
“And no light headedness? Dizzy when you make sudden movements?”
“No,” Peter says. “If I were hungry, I’d eat! I freaking love eating, it’s like, easily top three best activities.”
“What happens if you do eat more?”
Peter scratches his elbow. Shrugs. “I puke.”
“I’ll check your blood works,” Bruce says. “Even if you only eat half a meal, it still needs to be balanced in nutritional value. That’s the main concern, I’d say. Other than that, I think we can trust your body to know how much food it needs.”
Peter stretches out on the operating bed with a face like he is about to be castrated. “What am I supposed to tell my aunt?”
“For now, I’ll assure her that you have big fat healthy lunches every weekend,” Tony says. “I got your identity covered, kiddo, but only if you’re upfront with me. Because if I feel like I can’t keep you safe, and I need back-up, I will make her my back-up. Understand? It’s important that you take care of yourself.”
“Oh, sure,” Peter finally takes off the safety goggles and flings them at Tony. “Because you take such good care of yourself. With the… the hangovers and the skipping meals and the massive daily intake of caffeine...”
“Don’t be like me, be better.”
“…and the burning the midnight oil, and yet you set me a curfew.”
“Who’s the adult here, kid?”
Peter sends him a baleful glare. “You sure you wanna go down that road?”
“I feel responsible for you.”
“Yeah, sucks, right?” Peter snipes. “Sucks when someone you care about is, like, clearly not taking care of themselves even a little bit.”
Tony scrutinizes Peter, his gaze mild. “I’m getting the sense that you’re working your way towards a point.”
“I should hope so, because I’m laying it on really thick.”
“Are you going for bribery? You’ll only have your vitamin C if I get enough sleep?”
“It’s not bribery, Tony, I’m just asking. Can your health and safety be non-negotiable too, please?”
If Bruce had a penny for every time someone made that very request... Even Pepper can barely get Tony to budge on the issue.
But he watches as Tony leans in and squeezes Peter’s shoulder. His eyes are soft. “Okay, kid.” He says. “Okay. Deal.”
-
Requirements for being a good dad:
1. Don’t be Howard Stark.
That’s all.2.
Teach them to be better.Model good behavior.3. The sky is the limit.
4. Be the superhero.
5. Whatever you do. No dad jokes.
-
FRIDAY wakes Tony up one Saturday morning. “There was a fire in the workshop. Mr. Parker suffered injuries.”
Tony’s legs are still twisted in the blankets and he falls over in his rush to get up, a muscle in his wrist twisting painfully. He kicks the blankets away and barks “what injuries?” as he sprints out the door and to the elevator.
“First and second degree burns on the right arm.”
Tony swears under his breath as he slams the elevator button. “FRIDAY, how the hell did he get in without me? He’s supposed to wake me up!”
“Mr. Alex Stirling let him through.”
When the elevator doors open, it is into a room that is hazy grey with smoke. The smell of molten plastic lingers in the air. Across the workshop, Peter is standing by the sink, cooling his arm with water. He doesn’t look up at Tony, just draws his shoulders closer to his ears when Tony approaches.
Tony says nothing as he grabs the kid’s shoulder and assesses the damage first. The skin of his right arm is red and blistering. The sleeve of his sweater is ruined.
“I was wearing the safety goggles,” Peter whispers. Tony sees them, still clenched in his left hand.
“Okay, kid,” he says, reaching for the first aid kit. “Chemical burn?”
“No. Sleeve caught fire from the soldering iron. S-stupid.” He sniffles.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“No. I mean, yes. But. My sweater. May just bought it last month.”
“Clothes can be replaced, kiddo. Body parts can’t.”
Peter’s lips twist down at that, Tony isn’t sure why. “Why didn’t you wake me when you got here? You're not supposed to be in here by yourself, you know that.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Alex let me in. Because he’s cool, you know. And I wanted you to get your sleep because you promised you would... No --- Never mind those bandages. Burns only take like five minutes to heal.”
“Speaking from experience, I gather.”
A watery smile. “I once burned my chest when I tried to iron a wrinkle out of my shirt while I was wearing it.”
Geez Louise. Tony is still not any closer to figuring out how the hell he is supposed to keep a child, any child alive. But he might just start by wrapping this kid in bandages from his head all the way to his toes and forcing him to live out the rest of his life as a mummy.
-
Natasha must have slipped through a crack in time and space and landed in a different dimension, because… “Are you drinking decaf?”
“What do you care?” Tony snaps. “Why do you always need to point out these things?”
Oof. Touchy subject. “You can thank me in the future, when shape-shifting aliens invade our planet, take you hostage and secretly take your place. Because I’ll be the first one to notice.”
Tony lifts his mug towards Pepper, who is sitting at the kitchen island with them. “Don’t you think she’d be the first to notice it?”
“No,” Pepper says. “No, I think Nat is right on the money.” She is almost four months along, and has a small bump to show for it. She wears loose sweaters now, and cotton shirts, instead of pencil skirts and slim-cut suits.
“So. What’s with the…?” Nat twirls her fingers around.
“I’m modelling good behavior,” Tony says.
Natasha scrunches up her nose. “Gross.” She only just got used to a Tony Stark who is tolerable as a drinking buddy. She is not ready for a Tony Stark who does decaf and non-alcoholic. “It’s not even born yet.”
“It.” Pepper says.
“There’s no way you’re gonna keep this up for more than a week, no offense. You have zero self discipline. Come on. You’ll be a good dad in another way. You are, uh. You have. Uh.”
“Good talk.” Tony says.
“Just give me a second, I’m sure I can come up with something.”
Something comes up for her. Because the elevator bell dings and Peter steps into the room. Peter Parker, the boy who Natasha has seen walking head-first into a ‘mind your head’-sign and then apologize to it. Who is now shuffling into the room with untied laces and sopping wet clothes. Natasha can perfectly envision the countdown to his next accident in glaring numbers above his head.
“Tony,” Peter Parker says, looking disconcerted. “There you are.”
Tony looks down at him and sighs a little. He doesn’t look even remotely surprised. “Why are you wet? It’s not raining.”
“Broken water pipe on 73rd,” Peter says, dismissively. He does seem like the type who could fall down a manhole and just shrug it off. “Tony. Jackie just said Alex was fired!”
“Yes.”
“Because-- Because of me?”
“Nope.”
“How. Uh.”
“Let’s find you some dry clothes. Come on.”
Peter’s eyes are wide and distressed. “It is because of me, isn’t it?”
Tony’s teeth click together. He sniffs. “He broke safety protocol by letting you go downstairs alone.”
“I asked him to let me in!”
“Yes. And then he did.”
“You should fire me. I mean, please don’t fire me, Tony, but please don’t fire Alex.”
“You’re an intern,” Tony says stiffly. “You don’t get fired. You’re learning. Something he was well aware of. Because your uncanny ability to transform any situation into a disaster scenario is duly recognized amongst my employees. We plan our fire drills around your visits.”
Peter wilts where he stands. “Tony-yy!”
He says it the same way any other teenager would say ‘daa-aaad!’. Interesting. Natasha takes note.
“Please hire Alex back, Tony, pleasepleaseplease?”
“Nope.”
Interesting, too. Because Natasha would have pegged Tony as a typical ‘curling parent’. The type who resolves any conflict with his kids by buying them a flatscreen. The sky is the limit.
“Let’s find you some dry clothes,” Tony says. “Coming?”
“No,” Peter says, crossing his arms tightly. “I’m gonna stand here and I’m not moving until you hire Alex back.”
“I’ll go find you some clothes myself, then.”
“I’m not kidding!” Peter yells after Tony’s retreating back. “Not moving!”
He starts moving as soon as Tony is out of eyesight, quickly pulling out a barstool to join them at the kitchen island. “Pep. You’re in charge of hiring and firing, right?”
“Yes.”
“Can you hire---”
“No dice.”
“But Alex is---”
“---a very friendly young man, and an awful security guard.”
“He can juggle!” This appears to be Peter’s most important argument, judging by the intensity of his tone.
“And while that is everything we look for in a security guard…” Pepper says.
Peter lets out a very dramatic sigh and leans his head forward until his forehead touches the smooth marble of the kitchen island. “S’not fair.”
Pepper pats the back of his head, the motion very similar to how she always pats her own belly.
Tony returns with a bundle of clothes, his face still carved in resolution. “Heigh-ho, kid.”
Peter drags himself to his feet, the corners of his mouth tilted down.
Tony pushes the clothes into his hands. “Go change and meet me downstairs.”
“I just,” Peter hunches his shoulders. “I feel like I got him fired.”
Something like sympathy glimmers in Tony’s eyes, but his voice remains steady. “You didn’t. He made that decision all by himself. Do you know why you’re not allowed to be in the workshop unsupervised?”
“Because I’m a catastrophe magnet.” Peter says, in a tone of voice like he has had a lot of practice giving that specific answer.
“Exactly. Because this concerns your safety. And we’ve already established that your safety is non-negotiable. He left you unsupervised, and you got injured. Anyone who gets my kid injured might as well serve their balls up on my chopping board, you understand me?”
Peter grumbles in a way that seems like he’s trying to hide that he is actually quite touched. “I didn’t need that imagery.” He hugs the bundle of clothes to his chest and follows Tony to the elevator.
The last thing Natasha sees is Tony pulling Peter out of the way before the elevator doors can slide shut on his backpack.
“So,” she says, leaning her hip against the kitchen island. “How does Peter feel about getting a younger sibling, anyways?”
Pepper just smiles.
-
Requirements for being a good dad:
1 Don’t be Howard Stark.
That’s all.2
Teach them to be better.Model good behavior.3
The sky is the limit.Set reasonable boundaries.4 Be the superhero.
5 Whatever you do. No dad jokes.
-
Steve is polite, generous, upstanding… Tony tries not to hold it against him. Ever since learning about the pregnancy, the man holds doors open for Pepper and pulls out chairs for her and absolutely refuses to let her carry anything heavier than a single sheet of paper.
Meanwhile, Tony is standing here with egg on his face and wilted tulips in his hands. He left them in the trunk of the car overnight. “Ooh. Dying flowers,” Pepper says with a smile, and pecks him on the cheek. “You sure know how to make a lady feel special.”
“I’ll take those,” Steve says, and swoops them up, moving away to rummage around the cabinets for a vase.
Pepper is almost six months along. The baby is kicking. Pepper has backpains and needs to pee every hour, but her mood is still bright and pleasant. She claps her hands together when she catches sight of Peter trudging into the room. “Sweety! You were on the news yesterday.”
“Oh no,” Peter says. “How embarrassing, on a scale from, like, ‘waving at someone who wasn't actually waving at you’ to ‘farting during class presentation’?”
“You looked perfectly dapper,” Pepper says, taking his chin in her hand and squeezing.
There is a fresh bruise on the kid’s cheek. And Tony knows the kid heals fast enough that it can’t have been from yesterday’s patrol. “What’s with the…” he points.
“Huh? Oh.” Peter carefully prods at it. “Tried to adjust the straps of my backpack. Lost my grip. Punched myself in the face.”
Geez Louise.
-
“Can I look at those drones?” Peter asks.
The drones have been lying in a corner of Tony’s workshop for weeks, months. He hasn’t invested any time into them. Doesn’t seem like it could get them any closer to finding their fugitive Mr. Drake.
“Have at ‘em.”
Peter picks one that is already pretty banged up, and sits cross-legged on the floor with it. “Do you know the baby’s name yet?”
“Morgan if it’s a boy. Morgan if it’s a girl.”
“Rich people don’t give their babies normal names like that,” Peter says.
“We’ll spell it with a silent P at the end. Does that help?”
-
Pepper never expressed any doubt that Tony would make a good father. So Tony is surprised to find that even she is skeptical about his attempts at ‘modelling good behavior’. “Are you serious about this?” she asks when he once again crawls into bed at eleven PM on the dot. “All of this? No more hang-overs, no more all-nighters?”
“We’ll be actual parents soon, Pep. Did you think I would hole up in my workshop day and night while you took care of the baby?”
The sarcastic undertone of his voice falls flat when Pepper gives a light shrug. “I’ve… been worried.”
Tony props his head up on his hand so he can look her in the eye. “What? Why didn’t you bring it up?”
“I don’t know. Steve always said you’d come through.”
“You talked to Steve about this? The ultimate persona non grata? Low blow, Pepper. Hand on heart, honey, we’re going to co-parent one hundred percent. It takes a village, population you and me. Joint effort. Go, team, go.”
She smiles and starts rubbing his shoulder with one hand. “Okay, honey. I know. I know. One footnote, though: This village is not just population you and me. The others, they are all going to be around. And when it comes to kids we need all the help we can get.”
Tony gets the point, but doesn’t necessarily want to accept it. “Peter wants to babysit, I’m sure.”
“Oh, yes. He offered. Though with his track record of disaster, that feels a bit like setting the fox to keep your geese. And by the way, he keeps referring to the baby as Morgamp lately. I assume that’s an inside joke between the two of you.”
“I told him the p was silent!”
-
“Hey Tony! Hey Steve!” Peter smiles broadly up at them.
He is lying flat on his back, limbs akimbo, surrounded by books. The shelves against the wall have collapsed. Tony had come running at the noise and, to his chagrin, so had Steve.
“What happened?” Steve asks.
“I wanted to get the coupons from the top shelf. Rhodey always saves them for me. You know. From the cereal boxes.”
“And?”
“One thing led to another.”
Tony squats next to him. “Can you still feel your toes?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter pushes himself up into a seated position and starts picking up the books, sorting them back into neat piles, stuffing the coupons into his pocket.
“Who even cares about coupons?”
“Poor people,” Peter says. “Duh. I’ll fix your shelves, promise. I’m pretty good with the DIY stuff.”
“I’m not letting you walk around with nails and a hammer, are you kidding me? I might as well hand you a stick of dynamite with the fuse lit. I don’t know what evil wizard cursed you at birth, but you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near sharp things until you got your true love’s kiss or something.”
“You sound like May,” Peter says. “She already banned me from walking through the glass section of any store.”
Tony sweeps a few wood splinters out of the way before Peter can plant his hands down on them.
“I’ll get the hoover,” Steve says.
“I got it, Steve,” Tony says irritably. He knows it’s petty and territorial, but this is his kid, damnit, and he doesn’t need other people vacuuming up after him.
“All right,” Steve says easily. “I’ll just go make us all some tea then.”
“Yes, why don’t you.” Tony gets up to grab the hoover himself. He returns to find Peter still sitting amongst the piles of books, now holding his hand up to his own face. “Look at the size of this splinter!” he excitedly says, turning his hand over for Tony to see.
“Geez Louise. I was gone for ten seconds.” Pepper was right. It really takes a village. “Go find Steve in the kitchen, he’ll get you some tweezers. And a tetanus shot, perhaps.”
He sets the books to one side, gathers the larger chunks of wood in a garbage bag and vacuums up the splinters and dust. And contemplates the art of raising children. Joint effort. Go, team, go. It pains him to admit, even to himself, but his desire to always fix everything himself is probably very much a product of his own arrogance, and probably very much not in the interest of the child.
In a strange moment of clarity, it suddenly strikes him as an incredibly stupid decision to exclude May from everything going on with her nephew.
When he gets to the kitchen, Peter is splinter-free and enjoying a cup of tea. “Tony. Can I tell you about this insane thing that happened on patrol the other day?”
“I don’t know,” Tony says. “Is it going to give me PTSD?”
“Um.”
“I just need a heads-up on what general level of anxiety I should have.”
“Well, I didn’t die, obviously,” Peter says, gesturing at himself, grandly.
Geez Louise…
“So I was fresh out of web fluid, and I was just skipping around town. Stopped to help a kid fix her skateboard when I saw this guy who totally looked like your Carlton Drake dude get into a cab. So I was like, ohmygod I have to catch that guy, and the kid was like, ohmygod use my skateboard. And I was in hot pursuit, Tony. Have you ever seen that really, really old movie ‘back to the future’?”
“That’s the one where the annoying little kid drives the genius inventor absolutely insane, right?”
“He was already pretty insane from the start. If anything, the kid kept him on an even keel.”
“How far-fetched. Continue.”
“I forgot what we were talking about,” Peter says.
“You chased fake Carlton Drake down on a skateboard.”
“Right-- How do you know he was fake?” Peter asks, disappointment clear in his voice.
“Because you said the guy totally looked like Carlton Drake, so I already know it wasn’t actually him. Not to mention, I’d like to believe you’d have called me if you actually chased down Carlton Drake.”
“Nice vote of confidence,” Peter says, which does nothing to assure Tony that he actually would have called. “So I grabbed onto the back of a car, Back to the Future-style, and then another car, and another. The centrifugal forces were no joke, Tony. And then I grabbed onto the back of his cab and the driver slams on the brakes and I-- honest to god, I think I flew through the air about two hundred feet. Landed in a tree. Anyway. Bottom line. It wasn’t him.”
“Didn’t we agree very specifically that you always stop patrolling when you run out of web fluid?”
“Yes, but Tony, it was fake Carlton Drake! When you see a big bad guy getting away, needs must. And I thought it was him, so needs musted.”
“If you thought it was him, why didn’t you contact me right away?”
“I didn’t have time to go back for my phone! If you’re gonna tell me to get a freaking homing pigeon again…”
“How many times have I— Karen has a straight connection to FRIDAY! You can just say ‘hey Karen, I just saw fake Carlton Drake get into a cab, can you ask Friday to warn Tony so I don’t have to resort to some incredibly stupid shenanigans?’”
“Oh right,” Peter says airily, and blows on his tea.
Tony lets out a long sigh and thinks, for reasons he can’t entirely comprehend, about babies rolling off changing tables, and about that first pancake he always burns. “First off,” he says, “you are grounded. Literally. Meaning no swinging around for a week.”
Peter’s mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of outrage. “You can’t ground me, you’re not my dad, dad!”
“Could have fooled me,” Steve says, and smiles sweetly when Tony scowls at him.
“Second off. Have you talked to your aunt, lately?”
“Um. Well, I live with her. So. Yes.”
“I live with Steve, and I can go days without talking to him. Blissful days.”
“But our apartment is tiny,” Peter says. “Tiny. Like, you fart in there, it’s basically chemical warfare.”
“Colorful.” Tony presses the pads of his thumbs into his eyes. “Listen, kid, I… I think we should maybe tell your aunt that you’re Spider-Man.”
Peter chokes on his tea and Tony can hear it spilling everywhere. He doesn’t open his eyes to look at the kid, or at Steve. He doesn’t want to see either of their faces right now. Not with what he is about to say. “If I found out that someone had been keeping crucial information about any of my kids from me I would lose my mind, absolutely lose my mind. It’s… I don’t know. I feel icky about it, suddenly. It just feels wrong. She could sue me. She could probably sue me on some grounds.”
“What the fuck,” Peter says.
Tony’s hands drop down to the table. “Excuse your mouth!”
“Excuse my mouth,” Peter agrees. “But, Tony. You’re seriously taking me to family court? Since when do you care about any of that?”
It is difficult to explain. It feels a bit like Tony has done a good ten years worth of growing up in the last three minutes. “If she gets mad, I’ll take the blame for everything.”
Peter wipes at the puddle of tea on the table. “I just don’t understand—”
“I don’t want all this on my shoulders alone. It’s… quite a responsibility.”
Peter gets that sympathetic look on his face. The one that makes him look much older and wiser than a mere fifteen years, nine months, seven days, twelve hours, thirty four minutes and ten… twelve… thirteen...
“She’s going to absolutely murder you,” Peter says. “I’m getting some dry pants.” And he leaves the room.
It is as much of a go-ahead as Tony could have expected.
“I bet you enjoyed that,” he grumbles without looking at Steve.
“I liked the plural,” Steve says.
“Huh?’
“My kids.”
-
Tony invites the Parkers to another meal in their usual Korean restaurant for the occasion.
“It’s because you thought I wouldn’t make a scene in public, right?” May asks, brandishing her chopsticks like a weapon. “You pathological egotist. You piece of shit.”
“May!” Peter exclaims, his cheeks flushing.
“How dare you keep this from me. I could sue you. I’m pretty sure I could probably sue you on some grounds.”
“You’re right,” Tony says. “I should have told you. It just took me becoming a father to realize it.”
“Pfft,” May says. And then: “Yeah, makes sense, I suppose. Okay, Stark. If I gracefully allow you within ten feet of my kid, we need to establish right now. I have final say in everything. Everything.”
“Of course.”
“Ooh,” Peter says. “Tony grounded me for a week, can you overrule that?”
May narrows her eyes. “Elaborate.”
“Did I say—? Uh. Never mind.”
May hums, her gaze on Tony a tad more approving. “Good to know I can count on my co-parent to be sensible.”
“This is gonna suck so much,” Peter complains, and buries his face in the menu.
May taps her chopsticks against his fingers. “Peter. Tell me you’re not just ordering a side dish again.”
“About that…” Peter says.
-
It all doesn’t turn out so bad.
“She mostly blames you, not me,” Peter reports over the phone the next afternoon.
“Well, good,” Tony says, and genuinely means it. The last thing Peter needs is tension in his home life.
“May and I never fight,” Peter says as if reading his mind. “You can’t live in close quarters and stay mad for too long. Very unpractical.”
But then May calls him the next morning. As soon as Tony sees the caller ID, he envisions about ten different scenarios all at once, of May telling him she has come to her senses and can he please get all the way out of their life.
Instead, what May says is this: “I got Carlton Drake lying on a gurney right in front of me.”
“Uh. What?”
“You’re looking for him, right? Peter told me. He got in a car accident and now he’s literally ten inches away from me.”
“May, he’s dangerous, you should—"
“I gave him an injection.”
Tony pauses. “Lethal?” he then asks, stupidly.
“Not legal, that’s for sure. Can you come collect him before I get fired for administering unauthorized drugs?”
-
It’s so anticlimactic it’s comical.
“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been working this case?” Tony asks as he stares down at Drake’s pale, slack face.
“No,” May says. “Maybe I would have some idea if you had told me about all of this sooner.”
Tony winces. “Fair. You really did us a solid.”
“Yes,” she doubles down airily. “If only you had included me from the get-go. I could have solved so many cases for you.”
“Glad to have you on the team,” Tony says.
-
“Oh. Allow me.” Steve says, rising from his seat as soon as he spots Pepper walking in with a clipboard.
Pepper is well over seven months along. The baby gets cute little bouts of hiccups in the womb; Tony can feel them when he lays his hands on her belly. Pepper has terrible fatigue and leg cramps, but her mood is still bright and plea—
“Steve,” Pepper says, clenching her hands tighter around the clipboard. “I know you mean well. But if you snatch one more thing out of my hands, I will kick you where the sun never shines.”
Steve momentarily falters but then, to his credit, ducks his head and takes a courteous step back. “Apologies.”
Pepper sniffs and keeps walking.
“I bet you enjoyed that,” Steve says as soon as her footsteps have died away.
Tony stirs his coffee. “My answer may incriminate me.”
Steve sits back down, his smile lines have deepened.
“Thank you,” Tony says.
Steve blinks.
“For having our back. We really appreciate it. It takes a village.”
Steve’s smile broadens. “You make a very good dad,” he says. “I’m sorry if I haven’t said it before.”
“Methinks you didn’t believe it before.”
“Well, what do I know. I’m a backseat driver.”
“Glad to have you in our backseat,” Tony says.
-
Requirements for being a good dad:
1 Don’t be Howard Stark.
That’s all.2
Teach them to be better.Model good behavior.3
The sky is the limit.Set reasonable boundaries.4
Be the superhero.Ask for help.5 Whatever you do. No dad jokes.
-
Peter messages him out of the blue on a Friday evening.
Hi Mr Stark. Just texting to say that I have to quit the internship. It’s affecting my grades, I need to take some more time for schoolwork. Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll see you around for missions and stuff!
Tony frowns down at the message. Peter hasn’t called him ‘Mr. Stark’ in ages, and that’s only the least concerning thing about his words.
Affecting his grades? Tony knows for a fact Peter’s grades are absolutely, one hundred percent fine. May keeps him in the loop. Only last week she debriefed him on her latest PTA meeting.
He presses his lips together and taps Peter’s contact, lifting the phone to his ear. He can vividly imagine Peter fumbling around for his phone, seeing the name on the display, and dropping it a few times before answering.
“Hello?” Peter says, sounding trepidatious.
“Are you being held against your will? Say ‘you’ve got the wrong number’ if you are.”
“Tony.”
“Oh, it’s not ‘Mr. Stark’ anymore?”
“Is this about my message?”
“Not at all,” Tony says. “I called you five seconds after you sent it for completely unrelated reasons. What’s happening, kid?”
“I’ve just been really busy. And I’m sure you have other stuff on your mind, with the baby coming any day now.”
“Is that what this is about? Sibling rivalry?”
Peter says “huh?” stupidly.
“Stop being an idiot. I expect you tomorrow morning at ten.” Tony hangs up.
-
No one shows up the next morning at ten, and Tony is getting worried. The kid gets ideas in his head sometimes, but usually when Tony tells him to stop being an idiot, he stops being an idiot.
“FRIDAY, any data on Peter?”
“He is in the suit,” she reports.
Maybe his kid got involved in some sort of big criminal case and that’s why he’s flaking out on Tony. That would explain the secrecy; Peter knows Tony doesn’t like it when he goes after any big fish.
“Doing what, exactly, FRIDAY?”
“Currently carrying an elderly gentleman’s groceries.”
So far for that theory.
Tony resolves to call the kid again later today, but May calls him first. “Did Peter talk to you?”
“Not exactly,” Tony says. “You know what’s up?”
“He didn’t show up this morning, then, I gather?”
“Nope.”
“I know it’s not a paid internship, but I assume you people have something like a… an expense allowance. To cover travel costs? That’s a normal thing, right? Peter feels awkward asking about it.”
“Of course,” Tony says. “I hadn’t even… Yes, of course.”
“I would have brought it up sooner, but I didn’t know it was an issue until this week. He qualifies for a metro card to travel for free, but I hadn’t realized they’re only valid on week-days. And, you know. I’m not really financially able to give him an allowance. So…”
So the kid had literally depleted his own savings by coming to his fake internship every weekend. And he never said a single thing. Tony thinks he might just start bawling on the spot. “Is he at home right now?”
“No. He’s been out all day.”
“I’m picking him up tomorrow morning at nine thirty. Tell him to be ready.”
“Thank you, Tony. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tony hangs up. Stares into space for about ten seconds. Then calls her back. “Actually, can I come over right now? So we can sort a few things out?”
-
“I need to go give the kid an extensive lecture,” he tells Pepper. “Wanna come with, provide the background tracks?”
“Tony, I’m pregnant. Hugely, heavily pregnant.”
“Hi pregnant, I’m dad.”
She chuckles, probably more out of surprise than anything else. “Did you just…”
“Zero regrets. All right, then. I shall be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, dear,” she says. “Whatever he did, I’m sure it was out of love.”
“That’s the whole problem with this damn kid.”
-
Tony has dropped Peter off in front of his apartment building before, but he has never set foot inside until today.
May and Peter live in a studio apartment the size of Tony’s walk-in closet. There are cardboard boxes stacked up to the ceiling. The floor lino is bubbly and frayed at the edges. There is a bunk bed and a kitchenette and a table where May serves him instant coffee. Tony feels furious, with the world and with himself. “Please, fuck, tell me May that nurses are not so fucking underpaid that they can’t even afford a one-bedroom apartment.”
“No,” May says. “The problem is debts. Medical bills. My late husband. But we’re doing well. I’m paying them off at a good rate.” She looks at the bunk bed and smiles. “And it’s cozy, right?”
“Yup,” Tony says and burns his tongue by taking too big a gulp.
“He really doesn’t want to quit the internship, Tony. He absolutely loves it.”
Tony gives a sharp nod. “I’ll make sure he gets paid. And cover his expenses. And… And a reimbursement for any accidents. Like when he burnt his new sweater.”
May hums. “The brown one? He told me he accidentally left it on the subway. I was pretty ticked off.”
“Would you accept money from me? I can pay off your debts.”
May slowly stirs sugar into her coffee, not seeming fazed by his brazen offer. “Do you ever get stressed?” she asks. “Overwhelmed, or tired, or fed up?”
“Uh. All of the above.”
“None of us are exempt from that. Money won’t make us happier, Tony. And we are happy, make no mistake. Sure, there are challenges. But that’s part of life.”
“What about a college fund for the kid?”
She sighs, running her thumb along the smooth edges of her cup. “Well. He’ll probably get a scholarship anyway, the way it’s going. But if it doesn’t work out… Yes, I suppose I’d be selfish not to accept that.”
“I’m getting it sorted ASAP.”
“Thank you, Tony,” she says. “I’m glad you’re in Peter’s life. Not just for this, I mean. For everything. You’re a good influence.”
“No has ever mischaracterized me so much as to accuse me of being a good influence.”
“You’ll make a very good father,” she continues.
“I know,” Tony says. “I made a list and everything.”
His phone buzzes. He wants to turn it off, but then sees that it’s Peter calling him. He answers. “Yes? Is this Domino’s?”
“I called you.” Peter points out. Tony can hear a smile in his voice.
“True. And it wasn’t a good joke either way.”
“Dad joke.” Peter says. “Tony. Can we talk? Or did May already--- did she talk to you already? She told me she would, in between some extensive Italian lecturing.”
“We can talk. I’m at your house.”
“Are you really? Okay, be there in, like, fifteen minutes.”
-
Tony hugs his kid when he is barely through the door. “You little idiot,” he says. “How had you envisioned the outcome? What was your ideal scenario, here?”
“You live happily ever after and never have to worry about me again?” Peter suggests. There is something wary about his smile.
“You absolute dumbass.”
“All right. I called you, didn’t I? Came to my senses and all that.” He shrugs out of his coat and pecks his aunt on the cheek, then looks down at the cups on the table. “I thought you quit caffeine!”
“Yes dad,” Tony sits back down. “This is decaf.”
Peter looks accusatory. “We don’t have decaf. Do I smell smoke? Are your pants on fire?”
“I went and borrowed some from Mrs. Harris,” May says, lifting the round metallic tin from the table.
“Oh,” Peter says, now looking sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Tony smiles into his mug. “Don’t, it’s cute.”
Peter sits, too.
“I’ll go take this back to Mrs. Harris,” May says. “And have a chat. Might be a while.” She leaves. Peter immediately looks more awkward and restless, and it tugs at Tony’s heartstrings.
“How was patrol?”
“Disastrous. I was in the worst mood.”
“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel—”
“No,” Peter says. “You don’t get to blame yourself for this. I could have… It just seemed so petty to bring it up. It’s not even a real internship, you’re basically letting me muck around with your expensive equipment and eat your food.”
“Bad example. You barely eat.”
“Anyone else my age would pay to do that on the weekend.”
“You improved my heat shield design just last week. Do not trivialize your own work, I am outraged.”
“I just don’t think you—"
“There’s no discussion,” Tony says. “I’ve never had to persuade an employee to take their damn salary. I’ll be getting the paperwork done to make this a paid internship. Retroactively. And cover expenses, too.”
“Employee, am I?” Peter says, though he is smiling. “Salary?”
“You want me to label it your allowance?”
“And what would that make me?”
“That’s enough fishing from you.”
“Yes, dad.”
“Are you all right?” Tony asks. “More on the whole, I mean.”
“Because of this?” Peter waves his hand at the room around them, then shrugs. “Yeah. I like it. I know I’m not supposed to. I know I’m supposed to be all like ‘ew, no, I’m a teenager, I want my own room where I can play video games’. And sometimes it is hard, like when she has night shifts and stuff. But, I don’t know. I just like spending a lot of time together.”
“You’re such a damn good kid,” Tony says. “Far too good for this world.”
“So are you,” Peter says, and pulls his chair closer so he can lean in for a hug, fitting his head snuggly under Tony’s chin. “Thank you, Tony.”
Tony hugs him back and thinks about his last ultrasound, and doesn’t feel apprehensive for a change.
The universe must somehow sense that Tony is enjoying a rare, but apparently undeserved, moment of inner peace, because this is the moment the phone on the table starts buzzing. It’s a message from Steve: D-day.
“Oh god,” Tony gasps, sitting up so fast that Peter almost slips to the floor. Tony slings one arm around him just in time and hauls him closer. “Pepper’s water broke.”
“What?” Peter squeaks, and he starts kicking his legs to get out of Tony’s grip. “Let’s go, then, let’s go!”
“Oh god,” Tony says. “Oh Jesus.” He fumbles with the phone, rushing to dial Steve’s number. Peter is already bolting out the door like he is planning to run straight to the hospital. He probably will if Tony doesn’t stop him in time, damnit. Tony rises to his feet and moves to the front door, phone pressed against his ear.
“Hey Tony,” Steve says, his voice utterly relaxed. “We just got in the car. Meet us at the hospital?”
“Fuck. Yes. PETER! Where the hell did he— oh.”
Peter is back already, dragging his aunt by the arm. “Quit standing around!” he exclaims, grabbing Tony’s free arm with his other hand. “Let’s go.”
-
They take Tony’s car, but May drives. Peter is giddy with excitement. Tony is feeling rather more fatalistic. “Morgan’s gonna come out all soft and squishy,” he says dejectedly. “It’s just gonna all end up a disaster that was nine months in the making.”
“Come on. You’ve had me,” Peter says. “For practice. The test subject. The prototype, for preliminary findings. The first pancake you burn, but you chuck it, and the second one is better. Remember when you saved my geography project at the last moment? Remember when you tried to convince me Santa was real? Remember the cat flap incident?”
“I thought we’d agreed never to mention the cat flap incident again.”
“Desperate times,” Peter says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Bottom line is, you already make a pretty good dad without even noticing it.”
-
As soon as they enter the hospital, Tony is whisked away into Pepper’s private room. Pepper is lying there, perfectly gracious and calm, Tony can hardly tell she is in labor at all.
Active labor, a nurse reminds him.
A whirlwind of contractions, oxytocin and finally umbilical cords. And then the baby is wailing, clearly in outrage. Tony can’t blame her.
A girl, a nurse confirms and Tony huffs because really, he doesn’t need to have gone to medical school to know that much.
The nurses pronounce her perfectly healthy, turn off their machines and leave. Morgan is still screaming, but nevertheless, it feels like everything is blissful peace and quiet.
“Delivered on time and under budget,” Pepper says. “Like all my projects.”
“Don’t make jokes right now,” Tony says. “That’s my trick. Get your own.”
He stretches out on the bed next to her and helps her sooth Morgan until she stops crying. He then leaves his newborn in Pepper’s arms and wanders back into the waiting room. He has to do a double take when he sees the digital clock on the far wall. Three hours have gone past in what feels like three minutes.
“Well?”
Tony turns and has to do a double take again. The waiting room is full of Avengers. And crushed empty soda cans and crisp packets, which suggests these people are fully prepared to just bunk down right here.
“It’s a girl.”
The statement is met with cheers.
“Can we see her?”
“One at a time.” His gaze finds Peter, who is sitting on the floor, leaning against his aunt’s legs. The kid ducks his head and smiles.
-
Pepper is asleep when they get back into the room. Morgan is too, her chubby cheek rubbing against Pepper’s collarbone.
“Oh my god,” Peter whispers, stroking her head with one single finger. “Hi Morgamp. Oh gosh. I can’t believe that can come out of you.”
Tony sits at the foot of the bed, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of affection at the view in front of him.
“I’m guessing we should skip workshop-day tomorrow, after all?” Peter says.
“No, come over. You can help me program Dum-E to change a diaper.”
“Hm,” Peter says and smiles. “That’s a joke though, right? The coming over part, I meant.”
“Kid. Come sit over here.”
“Oh no,” Peter says. “I know that face. What. What did I do now?”
“Just sit.”
Peter carefully climbs on top of the mattress and tucks himself under Tony’s arm with practiced ease.
“I sincerely hope,” Tony says, “that I never did anything to make you feel like the first pancake that gets chucked. You are not preliminary. You are not a test model for the actual child.”
“Tony. That was just a metaphor.”
“You are the full, unabridged pancake experience.”
Morgan makes a few gurgling noises and Tony watches Pepper’s arm instinctively tighten around her in her sleep.
“If you believe that,” Peter says, “I guess you have to believe that you’ll do just as well with Morgamp as you always do with me.”
“I know,” Tony says. “I got this.”
“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Peter says. “Because she won’t be a little disaster magnet like me. You can tell from the get-go. When I was born, I had to be resuscitated and get a chest X-ray and get hooked up to machines and stuff, because apparently I had breathed in my own poop or something.”
“Geez Louise…”
“You’ll be a really cool dad.”
“You know how I stay cool? Because I have a lot of fans.”
Peter turns his head a little further into Tony’s chest, and Tony can’t see his expression.
“Get it? A lot of fans.”
“Oh god,” Peter says, breathing out his laughter. “First the joke itself. And then you doubled down.”
“Because it’s two types of fans. That’s the joke.”
“This is gonna be so awesome,” Peter says.
-
Requirements for being a good dad:
1 Don't be Howard Stark.
That’s all.2
Teach them to be better.Model good behavior.3
The sky is the limit.Set reasonable boundaries.4
Be the superhero.Ask for help.5
Whatever you do. No dad jokes.Every smile is a win.