Archive of Our Own ^beta

In the soft glow of his Malibu workshop, Tony Stark leaned over his workbench, eyes locked on the gauntlet of the Mark 3 suit. His hands moved with precision as sparks flew, tweaking the final pieces. “Almost there...” he muttered to himself, wiping grease off his cheek. The hum of the arc reactor in his chest provided a quiet rhythm to his tinkering, accompanied by the gentle whir of machines and the steady beep of diagnostics from J.A.R.V.I.S.

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s smooth voice interrupted, “you’ve been at this for four hours. Might I suggest a break? Your heart rate has been slightly elevated.”

Tony scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m fine, J. Just a couple more adjustments and we’re golden. Besides, this baby—” he gestured at the sleek silver-and-red suit, “—needs to be ready for tomorrow’s test flight. It’s gonna be a game-changer.”

Before J.A.R.V.I.S. could respond, the sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor reached Tony’s ears. He barely had time to glance up before his four-year-old son, Peter, appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a stuffed Captain America plush in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other.

“Daddy... Uncle Rhodey says it’s dinner time,” Peter mumbled, his voice soft and sleepy. He toddled closer, dragging the plushie along the floor.

Tony turned away from his work, his expression softening at the sight of his son. “Rhodey said that, huh?” He chuckled, setting down his tools and squatting to Peter’s level. “Well, if Uncle Rhodey says it’s time, it must be serious.” He gave Peter’s messy dark hair a playful ruffle.

Peter nodded solemnly, still rubbing at his eyes. “Uh-huh. He said you have to stop playing with your toys.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Hey! I wouldn’t exactly call them toys...”

But then Peter's eyes drifted past Tony, landing on the Mark 3 suit standing tall on its display behind him. His tiredness immediately vanished, his little jaw dropping in awe.

“Whoa... WHAT’S THAT?!” Peter exclaimed, his tiny hands reaching out to point at the gleaming armour.

Tony smirked, glancing back at the suit like he was introducing a new friend. “This? This, buddy, is the future. The Mark 3. A little stronger, faster... and less likely to burn me alive.” He gave Peter a wink. “You like it?”

Peter’s eyes were wide as saucers as he shuffled closer, still staring at the suit in awe. “It’s like... a big robot... but cooler! Is it a superhero? Does it fight bad guys like Captain America?”

Tony groaned, leaning back on his heels. “Not this again...” He rubbed his face and looked at Peter. First his father, then his son, could he ever meet a stark man that wasn't obsessed with that mangy captain. “Okay, let me explain this to you one more time. Captain America has a shield. He’s got... the star, the stripes, and all the red-white-blue stuff. This,” Tony gestured grandly at the suit, “is something way cooler. This is Iron Man. I’m Iron Man.”

Peter blinked, tilting his head. “You’re an Iron Man?”

“That’s right.” Tony straightened up, striking a dramatic pose. “I’m Iron Man. And this suit? It’s what’s gonna help me keep you safe.”

Peter gasped, his eyes lighting up. “Cool! You’re gonna fly like Captain America when he jumps out of planes, right?”

Tony sighed. “Okay, for the record, I’m gonna fly better than Captain America.” He glanced at J.A.R.V.I.S. for backup. “Right, J?”

“Indeed, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed in smoothly. “The Mark 3 is equipped with superior flight capabilities, outperforming any tactical parachuting manoeuvres.”

Peter clapped his hands, his excitement bubbling over. “Can I be Iron Man too? Can I have a suit?”

Tony chuckled, scooping his son up into his arms and resting him on his hip. “How about you wait a few years, huh, kiddo? I’ll make you the coolest suit when you’re big enough to fit into it.

Peter giggled, his tiny hands gripping Tony’s shoulder. “Okay Daddy. But can I touch it? Pleeeaaase?”

Tony chuckled, putting him down. “Alright, just be careful, okay? No sticky fingers or accidental nuclear launch codes, got it?”

Peter nodded seriously, then reached out to touch the cool metal. “It’s so shiny!” He beamed, eyes wide as he traced the contours with his tiny fingers. “Can it talk? Like J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“Only if I program it to, but for now, it’s mostly just a silent partner,” Tony replied, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. “But I’m pretty sure it won’t judge you for your Lego obsession.”

“Daddy!” Peter pouted, but he was still grinning. “Lego Captain America's the awesomest!”

“Of course he is. But he can’t fly, can he?” Tony shot back playfully.

“Yes he can!” Peter announced dramatically, striking a superhero pose with his stuffed Captain America bear. “He can do anything!”

"Is that so," Tony said, kneeling down to meet Peter’s eye level and brushing the loose curls behind his ear.

“Yup!” Peter beamed, then his expression turned serious. “But when are you gonna be a superhero, daddy?”

Tony chuckled, ruffling Peter's hair. “I’m working on it, little man. Just a little more fine-tuning and I’ll be flying high, fighting bad guys, and maybe even saving the world.”

Peter’s face lit up again. “And I can be your sidekick! Like when Captain America has Bucky!”

Tony raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “You want to be my sidekick? You’re a little small for that. Maybe... Assistant Iron Man?”

Peter gasped, clutching his Iron Man plush. “Yes! Assistant Iron Man! I’ll help you fix the suits!”

Tony laughed, feeling a warmth spread through him at his son’s enthusiasm. “Deal. But first, we’ve got to get to dinner before Uncle Rhodey comes down here and hauls us both out.”

“Okay!” Peter nodded vigorously. “But then can I come back and help you? Please?”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Tony said, his heart swelling. “After dinner, we’ll do some more ‘superhero training.’”

Peter giggled, his tiny hands gripping Tony’s shoulder. “Daddy you gotta show Uncle Rhodey your suit! He’s gonna say it’s the coolest robot ever!”

Tony grinned, carrying Peter toward the exit of the workshop. “Oh, he’s definitely gonna say something. But ‘cool’ might not be the first word out of his mouth.”

As they made their way up the stairs, Tony glanced back at the Mark 3 one last time, feeling a strange sense of pride mixed with anticipation. His suit was almost ready, and so was he. But for now, it was time to be Dad.

And, as Peter’s sleepy head rested on his shoulder, Tony figured that was the most important suit of all. He looked down at his son, his heart full. “You know, Pete, I think you might just be my greatest invention yet.”

Peter giggled, snuggling closer. “Thats silly, Daddy!”

“Alright, alright, but only if you promise to wear a helmet. We wouldn’t want to damage that brilliant brain of yours.”

Peter giggled again. “Deal!"