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FIRST DAY OF SICKTEMBER!!!!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732798/chapters/83537722
I will be posting all of the Sicktember prompts on this story, go check it out
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I wish you would write a fic where peter has some trouble sleeping and he goes to tony for help (irondad is best and I love how you write them)
A/N: I added a Read More break in this; I’m so sorry if it isn’t working on your Dash or in mobile.
---
((WOW as per usual this took forever; I’m so sorry, and thank you for your patience!!!))
I can do that. As many of my IronDad fics are these days, this is set in a Post-Endgame Universe that ends the way we deserved it to. (Also thank you?? So much????) As per usual, I don’t know if this is what you envisioned, but here it is anyway. I hope you like it!
—
A Week in the Life of an Overly Anxious Insomniac (a.k.a. Post-Finals Week)
-
Friday
Peter Parker crawls in through his bedroom window after the fullest week of his whole life. He’s just finished his Junior year of high school, meaning that his end-of-year finals are the roughest and toughest, and he’s barely made it through them unscathed. Peter’s an above average student for above average students, much less the general population, so he keeps up with his studies well, especially after Tony and May teamed up to implement some Big Brother-level safe guards to make sure he was held accountable for his allotted homework and Spider-Man hours.
The teenager pulls himself upright and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh emanating from his chest as he pulls off his Spider-Man suit. He glances at the clock; 1:30AM shines back silently at him, the one-time extended patrol hours Tony and May had allowed him in light of the end of the school year and successful exams.
Once he’s free of his enhanced spandex, Peter pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants and collapses onto his bed, his nose buried in his covers, but his eyes remain open. He stares languidly at a spot on his wall, likely food from his and Ned’s last sleepover.
The seconds tick past, soon turning into minutes, and then an hour has gone by, and somehow he’s still wide awake. He’s tried to drop off multiple times, but a prickling sensation across his back, like’s he’s being watched, keeps him from relaxing into sleep.
Peter sighs in frustration and takes out his phone, scrolling through countless ridiculous news articles until his body shuts itself off around 5AM.
Saturday
Peter awakes at 9:30AM and groans. At least it’s Saturday, so he can sleep more. He rolls over just in time for his phone to go wild where he’d discarded it beneath his bed earlier that morning. He gropes blindly for the device and clicks it on, sleepily scrolling through the barrage of messages in his group chat with Ned and MJ.
Ned: Expo day!
MJ: Expo day.
Ned: Peter!! EXPO DAY!
Ned: P
Ned: E
Ned: T
Ned: E
Ned: R
Ned: WAKE UP
Peter rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a grin as he types out his response.
Peter: I’m awake geez
It’s not even until 4PM
Ned: Yeah, but still. We have to make sure we have our itinerary down and the layout of the place just in case something ya know crazy happens.
Peter: Right yeah sure
MJ: I’m not wearing the matching t-shirts
Ned: Pleeeeeaaassse MJ!!!!!!!!
MJ: …..without something else over it
Ned: *peace fingers emoji*
MJ: why didn’t you just send the actual emoji
Ned: You have an IPhone. The emojis always show up differently.
MJ: Not that one, idiot
Ned: Oh whatEVER
Peter nearly drops his phone on his face, so he rolls to his side and types out a final message.
Peter: I’m hitting snooze. See you guys this afternoon.
Peter switches his phone to silent mode and lays an arm over his face. After a week of multiple all-nighters on top of a full patrol and 4 ½ hours of sleep last night (this morning, he corrects himself with a grunt), he just wants to sleep until he absolutely has to be up. He sends a quick wake-up call request to May before pulling his covers back over his head.
-
Peter, Ned, and MJ crash at Ned’s apartment around 12:30AM. The Expo (an invitation courtesy of Tony Stark, of course) had been incredible, showcasing the latest and greatest technology on the market and coming to the market, from Stark Industries to OsCorp and everything in between.
The trio reclines on the Leeds’ comfy sectional, Ned passing out as soon as his body hits the cushions. MJ is curled in a half doze in the crook of the couch, and Peter spreads along the unoccupied middle section, propped sidelong against the back. He stares at his crossed ankles as the TV plays quietly in the background. His vision swims in and out of focus, trying to let him fall into sleep, but something keeps pulling him back just as he’s on the brink, like fingers trailing across his back.
Peter knows no one else is in the room with him. He hears Ned and MJ’s separate, steady breathing on either side of him, but something about their presences, how strongly he can sense them, keeps him from falling out of consciousness. Their presence should be a comforting tether, but he finds it more restrictive now. He shakes his head minutely at the thought.
After about fifteen minutes, Peter sighs in defeat and positions himself to watch Nickelodeon’s late night programming, finally dropping off around 4AM.
-
Sunday
Sadly for Peter, Ned and MJ are both early risers; they stir around 7:30 but lay poking at their phones until 8. Peter tries to fall back to sleep, but MJ’s accusatory “faker” has him popping his eyes open to defend himself.
“I think I deserve it.” Peter grumbles while rubbing an eye. “My longest night of sleep all week was like 5 ½ hours. Maybe.”
“That’s unhealthy.”
“That’s finals week.”
“I wish you’d told us, Peter.” Ned chimes in with a yawn. “We could have come home way earlier last night.”
“It’s fine.” Peter sighs and pushes himself up. “It was totally worth it. I’ll probably pass out tonight, so it’s fine.”
-
As if the universe loves proving him wrong, that evening once again finds Peter restless. He can’t seem to get comfortable in any position.
Left side.
Right side.
Back.
Stomach.
He even swaps his head to the foot of the bed and tries a diagonal position.
No dice.
He tenses up every muscle in his body and releases.
He keeps his eyes open for as long as he can without blinking.
He tries to force his breathing to become heavy and even.
Nothing.
His mind and body are exhausted, he can feel it, but they just refuse to shut off.
Peter pulls his pillow over his face and groans loudly.
-
Monday
Peter gets about 3 hours of sleep before May pokes her head in to ask for his help; she’s been on a minimalist kick lately and wants Peter to help her carry her donations to her car.
He smiles bitterly when he sees the black Sharpie scribbles on the outsides of the boxes:
Ben’s Clothes
Peter’s Toys
Wedding Pictures
Kitchen
Labels marked over and re-named Donations.
Peter’s eyes are suddenly watery, and he quickly deposits the boxes in May’s car before running a hand over his face.
May shoots him an inquisitive look but drops the issue, giving him a quick squeeze of a hug before thanking him and getting in her car. Peter waves as she leaves and sighs.
He could text Ned or MJ to go get coffee, but the walking distance just seems to far today.
He goes back upstairs and spends the day watching lame TV on the couch.
He doesn’t sleep at all that night.
-
Tuesday
Peter spends the whole day keeping busy. He organizes and cleans the apartment. He volunteers to walk his neighbors’ dogs. He goes for lunch with MJ and Ned and even sets out early as Spider-Man.
The evening hours come around, and he settles in with May on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. They keep score, Peter easily beating all of the contestants, and he begs May to stay with him and play with his hair as he puts on the most boring documentary he can find.
May acquiesces after studying him briefly, but she nods off after about half an hour, her hand resting in his hair.
Peter puts his hands over his face and swallows a sob, painfully, fully awake.
-
Wednesday
It’s starting to get to him, the lack of sleep.
He ignores May that morning when she calls to him to join her for french toast and fruit.
He tells Ned and MJ he can’t swing lunch that day though he has nothing planned.
He nearly cries when his phone lights up with his reminder that Tony Stark is back from his business trip, and again when said man sends him a message.
Tony: Hey, squirt. I’m back stateside. You free to come to the Lakehouse for a few days? Mo misses you.
Peter actually takes a few moments to consider before he catches himself. Not a good sign.
Peter: Yeah, I’m free. I’ll come tomorrow.
-
Thursday
Peter kisses May goodbye that morning with a promise of letting her know when he gets to the Cabin.
Happy comes for him around 10:30, and it’s after noon by the time they pull up to Tony Stark’s home away from home.
Morgan is on the porch the moment their car doors slam and is tackling Peter nearly to the ground before he can reach the trunk to get his bag. She squeezes the air from his lungs as she babbles excitedly about how they’re going to spend the next few days, her first days of summer vacation, together.
“Let him breathe, Monkey.”
Peter looks up to find Tony on the porch, metal arm on a post and flesh arm waving lightly. Peter ushers up a smile and a small wave in return before hoisting Morgan up into his arms. The teenager crosses to the porch stops before his mentor.
“Made it through another finals week, huh?”
“Barely.” Peter’s tone is more biting than he wants, and he hopes Tony didn’t notice. He’s definitely giving Peter a once-over now.
“Hap? Take Morgan inside, please?”
“Sure. Come here, Princess.”
“Uncle Happy, can I have cookies?”
“Don’t let her fool you, Hap; she’s already had her post-lunch snack.”
Morgan folds her arms and pouts as Happy chuckles and takes her inside.
“He didn’t say anything about juice pops-”
“Traitor.” Tony mumbles as Happy shuts the door behind them.
It’s quiet for a moment, the lake lapping at the shoreline barely audible as they look out and then at each other. Tony’s gaze stays on Peter, and the boy can’t help but look away.
“What’s up, kid?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your eyes are bloodshot. And last time I checked, Pep didn’t pop out a ten ton toddler, so Morgan shouldn’t be able to knock you over like that.”
“I was just playing with her.”
“Uh huh. Well,” Tony is clearly a bit peeved with Peter, but he drops the issue. “I assume you haven’t had lunch yet, so maybe some food in you will make you more talkative.”
“Thanks.”
“Turkey?”
“Perfect.”
-
Peter passes the afternoon between Tony and Morgan, the former occupying him with projects in his small workshop and the latter demanding to be occupied by him all over the property.
For all intents and purposes, he should be exhausted.
And yet 2:30AM finds him wide awake and near to breaking.
He’s laying on his side facing his clock, the red letters displaying “2:31AM.” He stares and stares and stares until he feels like the letters are bored into his brain. He closes his eyes, and they pop back open again like they’re on a spring.
Peter rolls into his back and stares at the dark patches on his ceiling, remnants of the knotholes that used to be, tensing and relaxing his gaze, squinting and releasing, rolling his eyes around in vain hopes of exhausting his eyes to closing with no luck.
He flips onto his left side with a huff and curls into the fetal position, hoping somehow he can trick his anxiety-ridden brain into believing he is safe and can sleep soundly. He’s in the middle of the woods of New York in what is likely the safest cabin in the entire world, and yet his body refuses to relax and let him sleep.
Peter slaps his comforter in frustration and bolts upright, his heartbeat drumming painfully in his chest and blood pumping in his ears. He swings his feet over the side of the bed, grabs his Midtown hoodie, and slides open the window; he sits on the edge for a moment or two before dropping silently to the ground. Slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket, Peter quietly follows the moonlit path to the dock; he stands there for a little while, tracing every shape and shadow the reflected glow will let him see, listening to every scuttle and shuffle in the trees and on the ground.
He wouldn’t pick out the light footsteps in any other circumstance, but their contrast to those he’s more familiar with sets him at ease.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” Peter chokes out as Pepper comes to stand beside him.
The woman is hugging her bathrobe to herself despite the warmth of the season, but she doesn’t seem agitated from what Peter can tell.
“You didn’t.” There’s an undercurrent of a scoff in her tone. “Overseas conference call. We had to meet on their terms.”
“That’s not fair.”
“We trade off.”
“Oh.”
They stand in silence for a few beats before Pepper sighs.
“He struggles with insomnia, too, you know.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Afghanistan. His heart. New York. That crazy Russian. Hammer. Ultron. Thanos. St-….Everything. I’d be amazed if he went through everything he has while maintaining a decent sleep schedule.” Pepper’s tone is a little hard, but Peter knows she doesn’t mean ill will toward him. She’s been with Tony through far longer than he has. She’s quiet for a few seconds before quietly adding, her tone lighter, “He called an Iron Man suit on me once.”
Peter sucks in a breath.
“I don’t think he meant to, but he had so much going on that he wasn’t dealing with already, and…we were going through a rough patch…The anxiety was eating him alive. Don’t tell him I told you all of that.” Her tone is more conspiratorial than regretful. “He’s never forgiven himself for it, but you should know. He deals with it, too. The anxiety. Feeling unsettled all the time.”
“There’s just…always something. I feel like can’t really rest.”
Pepper nods. “I don’t know the full scope of your abilities, but May’s told me about your…Peter Tingle?”
Peter cringes. “Spider Sense is what I prefer, but yeah. Maybe that’s related to all of this.”
“Probably.” Pepper is quiet for a moment. “You know…he would do whatever he needs to help. All you have to do is ask.”
“Okay.” Peter turns just a bit and gives her a tired smile. “Thanks, Pepper.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Pepper holds out an arm for him, and he gladly steps in to it.
Peter will always be secretly, selfishly thankful for how Morgan softened the Starks while he was gone, allowing him to fall in their never-ending streams of comfort that didn’t exist before he disappeared.
Peter feels a pull where Pepper’s hand rests on his shoulder, and he allows her to guide them back inside. He falls asleep an hour later.
-
Tony has multiple business calls the next day, so it’s mid-afternoon when Peter finally gets some alone time with his mentor-turned-father-figure. They’re sitting on a small pier Tony built over the lake, swinging on a bench swing Morgan insisted they needed after Pepper had one installed on the front porch months earlier. They’re seated on opposite ends of the swing, Peter’s feet propped between them as they gaze out over the water, each lost in their respective thoughts.
Peter taps Tony’s arm with his toes after a while, and the man scrunches up his nose in false disgust.
“The last thing I want on my arm, even lower on the totem pole than Morgan’s boogers, is stinky teenager feet.”
“I will have you know that I clean my feet quite well and quite regularly, my good sir.” Peter falls into a vaguely British accent, accentuating each of the last three words with its own individual toe tap to Tony’s arm.
“Disgusting. I’m tainted.” Tony rests his arm over the back of the swing. “So, I hear you and Pepper had a little late night stroll to the dock.”
“She told you?”
“FRIDAY did. She’s a bit of a tattletale.”
“She really is.”
“Woke me up and everything, and I was finally getting a good night’s sleep.”
Peter feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Sorry. Uh, and sorry you haven’t been sleeping well.”
Tony shrugs. “It happens. Especially when I go from being in the city, as we were in Bangladesh, to being back out here in the quiet. Hard to adjust sometimes. To relax fully.”
“Yeah.” Peter stares resolutely out at the lake.
“So, what were you and my wife chatting about at such an hour?”
“Just…business?”
“So you got up and took Pepper out to the dock to ask her about her business call?”
“Not exactly. I mean, it came up, but…I was out there first.”
“Oh, really? So she came out as a recon. mission, then?”
“I guess so.”
“Why were you out there in the middle of the night, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“….I couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah? Why not?”
Peter inhales through his nose. “Not sure. But it’s not a big deal.”
“If you say so.”
Peter looks through the corners of his eyes and finds Tony studying him before the man decides to stand, stretching and popping his back as he does so.
“Care for a walk around the lake?”
-
Peter collapses onto the couch when they return, staring through the windows to the side porch and watching Tony and Pepper prepare dinner together on the outside grill.
Morgan is hunched over at his feet, scribbling furiously in her current favorite coloring book.
“Whatchya doodling, Moomoo?”
“A cat.” Morgan holds up a good-sized image of what is now an orange tabby.
“Looks good.”
“Thanks.” The little one goes back to her coloring, more quietly this time, and Peter settles back against the arm of the couch. He stares at the ceiling, willing himself to relax if it means he can even get a nap in before dinner, but his body just won’t have it. He can hear his heartbeat. Morgan’s heartbeat. Every mechanical and electrical noise in the house goes in and out of focus as he just lays there, trying not to show his frustration and upset Morgan.
“Hey, Pete.” Tony pokes his head in and nearly makes the teen jump. “Can you grab the meat out of the fridge?”
“Yeah.” Peter sits up slowly and stands, feeling Tony’s eyes on him as he crosses to the kitchen. “Sh-oot.” Peter catches himself just in time after his toe has a gnarly collision with a dining table leg. “Missed that somehow…” He grumbles as he pulls the food out of the freezer and brings it back to Tony. Peter just catches the man’s critical gaze before it snaps into easy speculation.
“Thanks, bud.” Tony claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and they go out together, Peter’s hopes of relief forgotten as the afternoon melts into evening.
-
It’s the same old story, and one he is so tired of re-living.
Peter full on glares at the ceiling as his heart pounds in his chest, refusing to slow down no matter how he tries to force out slow, even breaths. He clenches his eyes shut but the frustrated tears have already bloomed there and spilled over his cheeks, drawing twin lines down over his temples and pooling on his pillow. He swipes a hand over his face and sniffs hard, rolling onto his side to glare at the clock now.
3:33am.
The witching hour. Or at least that’s what MJ calls it. It definitely feels like he’s being hexed right now as his eyes seem to remain open of their own accord, in spite of all of his efforts to get them to comply with the exhaustion in his limbs, his bones.
“Why the hell can’t I sleep?” He mouths silently at the glowing numbers, the frustration spilling over again, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time. He doesn’t cry all that often, really, not when he’s mad, at least, but night after night of not sleeping enough, especially after exerting himself so much, has worn him thin, and crying is all he can do to keep from screaming, stomping, hurling and throwing things. He’s past the point of being upset with his insomnia and reached the point of searing anger, at himself for not being able to overcome this obstacle and whatever power has placed this plague on him. He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, and he nearly cracks a tooth when an owl sees fit to chime in on his thoughts from outside his window.
Peter pushes himself up and gazes toward his window, the scene from last night playing through his mind in a strange 3rd person point-of-view, as if he is FRIDAY watching him from the house instead of himself experiencing it. Something Pepper said pokes at his consciousness, and he frowns.
You know…he would do whatever he needs to help. All you have to do is ask.
All you have to do is ask.
Peter stares intently at the window for a moment, contemplating before he finally sighs deeply and throws his covers off. As much as he hates to put anything else on the man’s plate, Peter knows that Tony will understand his plight; plus, he’s been eyeing Peter ever since he arrived, so the teen figures it’s more merciful to put the man out of his miserable curiosity.
Peter stops outside of Tony and Pepper’s door, listening for a moment and frowning when he only hears one person breathing and snoring softly. Definitely not Tony. He quietly pads to Morgan’s door and listens, only hearing the even lighter breathing of the little girl, and his brows crease.
Peter heads toward the stairs and picks up the faint light shining from downstairs; he quietly mounts them and steps down to the ground floor, absorbing Tony sitting on the couch with a book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. It’s so domestic that it brings the tears back to Peter’s eyes, the idea of Tony finally being this relaxed and at home somewhere pulling at something deep in Peter’s core.
“I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Tony’s voice startles Peter, the silence Peter hadn’t realized he’d settled in to shattered, and now the air holds an expectation of being filled with vibrating waves that Peter isn’t sure he’s ready to relinquish. The idea of finally confiding in Tony had seemed palpable when he was upstairs, alone and breaking anyway, but now that he’s here and sees Tony, thinks back to everything he’s been through, Peter suddenly feels selfish and silly.
“Quit overthinking. Come sit with me.”
Peter’s gaze snaps from the window to which it’s wandered and back to his mentor. Tony has put down the book and tea by now and is watching him intently but not oppressively; there’s no scrutiny in his eyes or demand in his body language, just an open invitation.
Peter crosses the room stiffly and sits beside Tony, staring ahead and body refusing to relax right away.
“Geez, you’re wound up tight. Come here.” Tony beckons Peter toward him, and the teen stares.
“What?”
“I’m gonna rub your shoulders, kid. Don’t make it weird.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Unless you’re genuinely uncomfortable with it, then I won’t.”
“No, it’s okay….I’m just….getting used to it.”
“To what?”
“To you being all…”
“Domestic?”
“Exactly.”
Tony snorts.
“That’s like, the one benefit of disappearing for five years.”
Tony clenches his jaw, and Peter sighs through his nose. It’s always too soon for Tony.
“Sorry…I just mean…You had a kid while I was gone. You got all paternal and stuff, and now I get to reap the benefits of that, I guess.”
“Yeah, we’re definitely more touchy feely than before, huh?”
“I just figured that was because you missed me.” Peter smiles a bit, mischief tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I did, kid. So much.”
Peter’s smile falls to neutrality. “I know. I….I guess I missed you, too. I don’t remember much.”
“Hopefully we’ll keep it that way.” Tony mumbles. “So, shoulder rub?”
Peter considers for a moment. “Sure, why not.” He scoots closer to Tony, and the man’s warm hand on his tense neck and shoulder muscles immediately help him relax just a fraction.
“Geez, kid; you been working out these muscle groups or have you been that tense over finals?”
Peter blinks. “You know, now that you mention it, I guess I have been pretty tense over the last couple of weeks.”
“Yeah? You think that’s causing your sleeping problems?”
“How did you know about that?”
“This is the second night in a row that you’re awake with a Stark parent in the dead of night in one of the safest places in the world. Call it a hunch.”
Peter lets out an involuntary snort. “Yeah…It’s been a solid two weeks since I got a good night of sleep.”
“Two Fridays ago?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Did you procrastinate? Too many Spidey hours?”
“No, no, I was ready just…nervous I guess. Not sure why. I guess because I had a lot of tough academic classes this semester. There’s just kind of an air of tension, you know? Even if I feel okay, if everyone else is stressed out, I just kind of pick up on that. I guess it’s my senses.”
“That makes sense.”
“And sometimes I tend to just….hang on to that tension even after the school year is over, you know? After I took my first AP Exam, I had three separate dreams that I was taking the exam over again. It’s like a high that I can’t come down from or something.”
“Mmm.” Tony hums his attention while giving special care to a particularly tough knot near the base of Peter’s neck. “Geez, kid, we really have to work on your posture. No more studying in bed.”
“Oh, yeah, May told me not to do that.”
“Wait, did you actually study in bed?”
“…..Yeah.”
“Pete. Kid. You’re too smart for this. Seriously, you should only sleep in your bed. Anything else encourages you to be awake in that space.”
“When did you become an expert on this stuff?”
“When I became a workaholic and was doing work in the comfort of my bed that I couldn’t ever sleep in because my mind was always buzzing with work to be done.”
“Oh….ah!” Peter flinches as Tony pushes his metal thumb against the aforementioned knot.
“Sorry, bud. This one’s a booger.”
Peter squirms uncomfortably as Tony presses on the tough spot in his back, sucking in a harsh breath when the man ups the pressure but sagging in relief when he eases off.
“Anything else bothering you?” Tony prompts quietly as he places his flesh hand over the base of Peter’s neck to massage the top of his spine.
Peter nearly groans as Tony works at the new spot of tension he’s found. “….No, not really.”
“You hesitated.”
“So?” There’s more discomfort than bite in Peter’s tone.
“You’re not exactly one to choose your words carefully, Pete.” Tony’s lowers his voice and evens out his tone as much as he can. “You speed through every conversation like that ugly blue hedgehog thing.”
“Sonic.”
“Sure,” Tony shrugs. “But we were talking about you hesitating.”
“You were, really.”
“Sure, I was, but it really is one of your tells for when you’re not being totally honest with me.”
“Since when do you pay so much attention to me?” Peter’s nostrils flare just a bit after the fact.
“Ooo so that’s it, then? Feeling neglected by your mentor-slash-idol?” Tony has laced jest into his tone to compensate for the pinched brows Peter cannot see. He knows Peter looks up to him as a father figure, especially considering all they’ve been through together, and icy guilt stabs through him as he thinks of Peter missing him and longing for his re-assurance in these last days of the semester. “You know I’m always a video call away, buddy.”
“I know….” Peter winces, and Tony apologizes quietly. “…but you’re busy.”
“I’m retired, kid. Not a superhero anymore, remember? And Pepper and her people run Stark Industries.”
“You were just in Wakanda for two weeks.”
“That was…a friendly visit, we’ll call it.” Tony pats Peter’s back lightly and reclines against the couch cushions. “That’s all I can do for now, kiddo. Hand’s too tired.”
“Thanks.” Peter rolls his shoulders and settles back, too, distanced from Tony at the other end of the couch.
“Seriously, though.” Tony levels Peter with a gaze, and the teen can’t look away. “Anything you need, any time, Peter. I’m here for you. I didn’t invent time travel to get you back and pawn you off on May again.”
Peter nods, his face unreadable as he continues to stare at Tony like an animal deciding if he’s trustworthy or not.
“C’mere, squirt.” Tony holds out an arm and blinks when Peter hesitates before crawling into his partial embrace. The man sighs and leans his head back, tracing the barely visible grooves in the wood paneled ceiling. “Do you remember the last time we sat like this?”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes, smartass, but I was thinking more about the hour. The last time we were both up at 3am.”
Peter considers for a moment, following Tony’s gaze before realization seems to strike him; his eyes widen a fraction before falling to the coffee table.
“Oh, yeah.”
Tony squeezes Peter’s shoulder.
“We didn’t do a lot this year. We were both too busy on the day of to go to his grave.”
“Does that bother you?”
“A little…but it’s not like he knows. And…I don’t know if we really wanted to this year, you know? With everything that’s happened, death is just such a weird thing to think about right now.”
“That makes sense.”
Peter’s breath catches just a bit. “She gave some of his stuff away the other day. She asked me to help her carry it out to her car, and she didn’t even…acknowledge it or whatever.”
Tony is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, buddy.”
Peter is lost in thought for a few moments. “Well, I think so, anyway. She had donation boxes, and they were taped up, but the side was marked, ‘Ben’s Clothes’ and ‘Wedding Pictures.’ I never saw inside, so I don’t know for sure. And like I said, she didn’t say anything, which is weird for her, honestly, so maybe she was just using the boxes.”
“You could ask her.”
“I don’t think so. That would probably upset her…Besides, I doubt she actually did get rid of them, but something about loading all of that stuff into her car just…it felt like the day I first came to them, or when we moved after the blip. So much transition, and the thought of transitioning past Ben on top of how much I haven’t been sleeping was just…”
“The straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“Exactly.” Peter’s voice is thin and quiet, wispy like a passing breeze, strained like a taut muscle, and weighted with meaning like a fierce whisper.
Tony is rubbing his hand over Peter’s shoulder and pretends not to notice when Peter rubs his hand over his eyes. He does notice the second time, though, and laughs a bit when Peter lets out a loud yawn. “You sleepy now?”
“Yeah. I could sleep for days.”
“Do that. I’ll keep Momo occupied tomorrow-” Tony snorts. “Today. Sleep as long as you need to.”
“Thanks, Tony.” Peter smiles tiredly and leans his head against Tony’s shoulder; he stares blankly at the fireplace until his eyelids begin to droop.
“Oh, no. I can’t sleep here tonight; my back is too bad for that.” Tony roughly rubs Peter’s shoulder before shifting to get up.
Peter grunts and pouts, slouching into the couch.
“You can’t, either. Morgan won’t let you sleep if you’re down here.”
“True…” Peter rises with him.
“Hey, if this sleepless stuff persists, I’ll get some of the stuff we gave Steve when he was fighting insomnia after-….some stuff happened.”
“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”
“No problem at all, bud.”
They climb the stairs in silence, pad down the hall and turn to face each other when they reach their respective doors.
“Night, Pete.” Tony whispers, hand on his doorknob.
“Night, Tony.” Peter lingers for just a moment as Tony goes into his room.
The man turns to close his door but stops when he catches Peter still waiting. His brows crease, and he moves to come back out, but Peter shakes his head and looks at the floor shyly, before waving for Tony to go. Tony considers Peter for a moment, squinting at the kid before he sighs silently and nods, closing the door all the way.
Peter sighs and goes into his own room, closing the door silently behind him before he crawls into bed and falls into a dead sleep until that afternoon.
(Tony only slightly regrets promising to entertain Morgan on 4 hours of sleep.)
Hey! If anyone has any sort of prompts they want to send in I would really appreciate it!! ❤️
I posted a new chapter of A Compiled Pile Of Sick Fics! Go check it out!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732798/chapters/71780847
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
NEW CHAPTER!! 😊
Two scenes in this chapter were inspired by art created by @negativesd09 and @emkayoh, I have linked their work in the end notes.
....
Ever since Peter Anthony Stark was born, he had become the definition of a Daddy’s boy, plain and simple. Perhaps it was because he shared two of his names with his father, or perhaps it was because his father had been there to take care of him and love him when his mother could not – whatever it was, one thing was for certain, Peter Stark absolutely adored him.
He was always smiling and giggling in delight when his Daddy was in the room. His first word had been ‘Dada’ and his first steps had been to toddle towards his astonished father when the mansion’s A.I notified the billionaire of the new progression occurring in the child’s nursery.
There was nothing Tony Stark could do wrong in Peter’s eyes. At times, he was the only one who saw through the protective layers the genius had built over the years to see the loveable; (for lack of a better word) dorky side to the apparent well put together billionaire and business tycoon.
Tony Stark wasn’t like his father. From the first time he held his new born son in his arms and gazed down in awe at the perfect little face with the tiny upturned nose, fingernails the size of a grain of rice and two beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes (an identical pigment to his own irises), he knew that he would not be Howard. He would not let his child feel neglected, worthless and the symbolism of disappointment as he had been growing up in the spotlight.
The love he had for Peter was indescribable, but those closest to him could see the irreparable bond Tony shared with his child. They were inseparable and so alike, not just in looks, but in their shared curiosity and urge to learn more, to thrive on in their own creative roots. Neither Pepper, Rhodey or Happy would ever deny that Tony was an excellent father. He had changed since Peter had arrived. The drinking and all-nighters were a relic of the past.
Now, Peter was the centre of the billionaire’s world. It hadn’t been easy at first, but the little boy who shared his eyes and his high IQ had wormed his way into the billionaire’s closed heart and Tony knew deep down that he could not live without Peter. One of the best parts about being a father was seeing the pure admiration and adoration in his child’s eyes and it was very clear even from the early days when the young Stark couldn’t even form words, that Peter felt exactly the same.
There was only one problem with this mutual strong connection the father and son shared. Peter had separation anxiety. He was incredibly susceptive to physical affection, which was all his father’s fault because the man couldn’t resist kissing those cute chubby cheeks and mop of curls on a daily basis whenever he cuddled his kid in his arms.
At the age of four, Peter hadn’t changed apart from growing a little taller and expanding his knowledge with the genius mind he had inherited from his father. He was still as adorable as ever and Tony just couldn’t resist the inevitable urge to swing his little one into the air, heart swelling with love as the boy squealed and giggled in infectious delight at the playful action, before bringing him down and planting small kisses all over his little face like there was no tomorrow. This type of hyper scene occurred on a daily basis and it was no wonder that Peter often craved this indulgent affection as he had been raised to expect it.
Tony had been brought in a cold household with a detached and distant father. The only affection he received was from his mother and JARVIS, therefore as far as he was concerned he was entitled to ensure his own son knew that he was loved and cherished. Tony had very rarely experienced the tender, intimate moments he shared with his child when he was Peter’s age. He read to Peter, played with him, made him his breakfast, lunch and dinner and did everything with his son that Howard had missed out on.
As aforementioned, the only problem with his parenting style was that Peter couldn’t stand to be parted from him. Tony always dreaded the inevitable business meetings where he was required to be out of Malibu a couple nights at a time, because he knew his kid would be unhappy and there was nothing he could do to sway him.
His son loved Pepper, his Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy, but they weren’t his Daddy and no-body would ever be able to live up to the standards that his father had set. Tony never admitted it out loud, but the truth was that he hated being separated from his son too, even if it was easily perceived by Pepper when she witnessed first-hand how jittery and reserved the genius became when he couldn’t be with Peter.
It just so happened that another business meeting was just around the corner yet again. Both he and Pepper were meant to be there, and Rhodes was busy with his duties for the army, so that just left Happy to watch Peter whilst Tony was away for his eleven o’clock slot.
Happy was fond of Peter, but he wasn’t naturally attuned to children’s wants and needs and he often grumbled under his breath when he thought the others couldn’t hear when the little boy would cry or would enter his ‘bratty’ phase. It was very rare for Peter to do this, but it happened, as it did with all four-year olds from time to time.
Tony was keen to keep his boy distracted and entertained for the morning before he would have to leave. He had told Peter about the meeting when he went to wake him up early that morning with a gentle, warm hand stroking his son’s back to rouse him from his slumber and a soft kiss to his curls. The boy was too lethargic to properly take the meaning behind his father’s words in and had mumbled some incoherent words at the mention of the business meeting, before rolling onto his back and snuggling into the man’s sturdy chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of his Daddy’s neck.
Tony huffed a laugh at the gesture, well used to Peter being pretty unresponsive and even more clingy when he first woke up and the billionaire was only too obliged to hold his kiddo close and carry him to the kitchen to make some blueberry pancakes together and forget their worries. Heading down to the lab was the next point on the agenda.
The workshop underneath the main floor of the mansion was their favourite place. It had always been Tony’s main area of expertise, of course, as it allowed him to indulge in his genius ideas and creations and it was where he felt most at home.
As Peter was his little shadow, naturally that meant that the father had had to make a few changes to the lab to ensure it was safe for a baby to be in. The soft foamed area specifically designed for Peter, created by Tony, had been installed soon after his kid begun to display a certain neediness to be with his Daddy nearly twenty-four seven.
Peter didn’t spend all his time in his highly efficient playpen though. That was only reserved for times when his father was working on something dangerous like tasering some loose wires or working with small intricate designs which required tiny bolts and gadgets that were liable for little feet to accidentally tread on. Peter spent many a time in his father’s arms when the man wasn’t working with his hands, sitting in his Daddy’s lap and basking in the warmth and comfort that only a parent could provide.
When his son was a baby, Tony would often sit cross-legged on the floor, cradling the little one in his arms and browsing through online articles and profiles about particular topics and public figures. Peter loved the blue glow that came from the screens that seemed to float in mid-air…
…
…“Da!” The baby chirped, waving one small chubby arm at a photo of an old car model from the 1960s which the billionaire was interested in buying.
“Mhm,” Tony hummed, lifting his son so he was standing on the man’s legs to see the picture better. “What do you think, Pete? A worthy investment?” He asked, resting his chin on the top of the boy’s fuzzy chestnut curls.
Peter didn’t answer with any coherent words, but he babbled enthusiastically whilst waving his little fist, drool trailing down his chin.
The father deciphered that the only reason why his kid was drawn to this 1967 Shelby Cobra model was because it was blue. It was the colour of Peter’s nursery walls, even though this was a royal blue instead of the sky shade his room boasted, but it was smart lick of paint, Tony would give it that.
“A fitting endorsement if I ever saw one,” the billionaire remarked, tilting his chin to place a quick kiss to the top of the boy’s head, before leaning round the small body to wipe away the trail of drool with the sleeve of his long-sleeved Metallica top. The baby squirmed and wriggled but didn’t whimper as he was used to the man fretting over him. “You’re a little dork, you know?” He teased.
Peter’s little face broke into a big slobbery grin at his father’s playful tone and the tickly feeling of the beard which was scratching against the side of his face as the man leaned close to him.
He burst into a fit of giggles, Tony’s favourite sound in the world, which spurred him to grin and snigger at how perfect his little boy really was, nuzzling his face against Peter’s and scattering loads of small kisses all over his baby’s face.
“Yeah, you’re a crazy monkey, aren’t you? Crazy baby,” Tony joked between kisses, heart swelling with warmth when his kid squealed with laughter and wriggled even more.
Peter babbled some other incoherent words, but his delighted laughter was enough. Tony chuckled, warmly, rubbing his face against the little tuft of hair and closing his eyes as he inhaled the sweet smell of the apple scented shampoo he had applied the night before and something that was distinctly Peter.
“Love you, baby,” the father murmured after a few moments once the boy’s infectious giggles had reduced and the gummy smile was all that remained. Peter snuffled and cooed, nuzzling into the man’s warmth and the two remained down in the lab for the rest of the day.
Pepper found them a few hours later in a rather unresponsive state. Tony was splayed out in the playpen, top discarded beside him and Peter was lying on his bare chest.
Both were sleeping soundly, cute little snuffles escaping the baby as he nuzzled into the spot right above his father’s heart and the man’s hand was resting protectively on the child’s back, jaw slackened in his relaxed state but the steady grip on his son never faltering.
Pepper downright cooed at the sight and immediately asked JARVIS to take a photo and a video; smirking when he replied with an almost response that could almost be described as fond (even though it was technically an AI): “I already have, Miss Potts.”
…
Tony loved that picture. He had plenty of photos in a file named ‘Peter Anthony Stark’, where JARVIS had been like his own personal cameraman; always being there to capture the moments, but that photo definitely had to be in the billionaire’s top five that they had collected over the past four years.
Lab time was still special, especially as Peter was big enough now to sit at his own desk and work on drawings or small DIY projects, whilst the genius tinkered a few feet away. It was the perfect way to keep his kid occupied for the morning until Happy arrived.
After devouring the blueberry pancakes, Tony scooped Peter up into his arms, licking his finger and wiping away the syrup which had spilled down the boy’s chin.
“Okay, I know you love your old man’s cooking like a champ, but you wanna try actually getting it in your mouth next time, buddy?” Tony teased, light-heartedly, tickling underneath his kid’s chin, eliciting approving giggles from the little boy as he squirmed uncontrollably in his father’s hold. “You crazy demon child,” the man remarked, indulgently, bouncing the boy on his hip and tickling across his little tummy as he wandered over to the staircase leading down to the lab.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Peter chirped, grinning from ear to ear and practically squealing when he realised where his father was leading them.
“Peter, Peter, Peter!” Tony replied on an instant, chuckling at the bright shine in his son’s doe eyes.
“Daddy, I wanna, I wanna dress up as you! I wanna be you!” He was vibrating with excitement, bouncing a couple of times as he was barely able to contain his enthusiasm.
“Really? You wanna look like Daddy today?” Tony commented in mirth, smirking at his kid as he typed the pass code into the security panel. Peter was currently in his space themed pyjama top and bottoms, but he had his trainers on just in case there were sharp objects on the floor.
“Mhm! Wanna be like you!” Peter expressed, enthusiastically with a serene nod, as if it was the most ordinary, everyday request. It definitely was for the son of Iron Man.
“Alright, kiddo. We’ll muck about down here for a bit and then we’ll get you in your armour,” Tony joked, thinking about the Iron Man styled onesie hanging up in the boy’s wardrobe.
They didn’t do anything too complicated as it was still early, and Peter was still tired, even though one wouldn’t know it by looking at the ecstatic ball of energy, but Tony knew that it wouldn’t be long until he crashed with the way his crazy kid was going on. The genius asked JARVIS to play some soft pop music for background noise and he let Peter sit in his lap as he sat in front of the monitors and messed about on the internet and make notes on his upcoming projects for an hour or two.
It was getting closer to eleven and Tony’s heart sunk as he realised he would have to leave Peter soon, which was made even worse because of how perfect the morning had been up until this point. He wanted to make things as smooth as possible by keeping his son entertained, but it almost seemed to have backfired back onto the man since he would have to ruin the relaxed, peaceful mood he had created.
Tony sighed, deeply, ruffling his son’s curls in the process from where his chin was resting on top of his head. He clicked off the document he had been working on and tilted his head to gaze down at his son, who was fiddling with an Iron Man action figure and one in the shape of an alien, making cute little “pow!” and “bang!” sounds as he made them fight each other.
The man brought his lips down and blew a small raspberry on the spot behind the boy’s ear, provoking him to snort and burst into peals of laughter, leaning against his father’s chest.
“Daddy silly!” He giggled.
Tony chuckled, warmly, hugging his kid close as he nuzzled his hair affectionately. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah!”
He watched on fondly as Peter played with his fingers where his hand was resting on the boy’s tummy. His hand looked so big on his child’s small body and the innocent curiosity displayed by someone so young was incredibly endearing to the elder.
“You wanna get dressed, buddy?” Tony murmured into his son’s curls after a couple moments of just watching his kid observe his hands like he was seeing them for the first time. It was adorable and Stark never thought that he would describe something like that in his entire life. Stark men didn’t create adorable things; somehow Peter existed.
“I be like you now?” The boy asked, peering up at him with an excited grin on his face, adoration for his father shining in his brown eyes and Tony couldn’t help but feel blessed.
He smiled, indulgently, bending to drop a kiss to his son’s fore-head. “Anytime you want, kiddo,” he chuckled, swinging the boy into the air playfully and blowing another raspberry on his little pudgy belly as the pyjama top rose up from the sudden move and Peter squealed in delight, kicking his legs in his exhilaration.
Before he had his baby, Tony hadn’t been one for physical affection or physical contact at all for that matter. He never liked people handing him things and it was always Happy, Pepper or Rhodes who dealt with the personal one to one contact with investors and journalists. He had become so accustomed to behaving this way that upon the discovery that he had fathered a child, his first reaction was fear. He rarely opened up to anybody and the idea that he suddenly had a tiny human being to care for and raise terrified him.
The incredible thing was that Peter made it easy. He had literally fallen in love. Pepper liked to joke that her boss had become smitten with his kid ever since he first laid eyes on him and Tony didn’t even have the heart to argue. All of it belonged to Peter and he wouldn’t know it yet, but in a few years, Pepper would enter his heart too and he would finally open up fully to someone other than his son.
Until then, Peter would be the sole receiver of Tony’s physical affections. That’s what made the whole leaving predicament so much harder, because Peter relied on him for so much and only Tony knew all the little details about what his son liked and disliked, what he was afraid of, what brought him the greatest joys in life…he could go on and on. Even though it physically pained the genius to hear his child crying for him, he knew that Peter couldn’t live like this forever and they would have to get used to living their own lives as the boy grew older.
Tony carried the little one to his bedroom, heart sinking and stomach churning with dread as he placed the boy on his feet beside his bed and headed over to the wardrobe to grab the Iron Man onesie. He wasn’t ready for the next conversation he had to have with the gleeful little boy currently bouncing on the balls of his feet at the prospect of dressing up like his Daddy and blissfully believing that they were going to be spending the whole day together, but deep down the billionaire knew that it had to be done.
When he turned back around, he couldn’t help the warm smile that graced his features as his amusement caused the laugh lines around his dark eyes to crease and his lips to perk upwards, because Peter had taken the initiative to remove all of his clothes himself.
“You’re a terrific helper, buddy,” Tony chuckled, kneeling down to be at his son’s height so he could ask him to raise one leg to slip the onesie over his body, but he stopped to pull the boy’s underwear back up again. “Sorry, Pete, gotta keep yourself tucked away during the day,” he sniggered.
“Nuh uh! ‘m gonna be naked!” Peter giggled.
“Not gonna happen, pal. We want you to look your best for when Uncle Happy comes, right?” Tony said, pulling the onesie up over his kid’s shoulders and zipping it up. The comment left a bitter, sour taste in his mouth as it cemented the fact that he would be leaving his son in little more than half an hour.
“We goin’ out with Uncie Happy?” Lordy, this was going to be fun…
Tony smoothed the wrinkled fabric down and gently gripped the boy’s arms. “No, bud, you remember what I told you this morning when I woke you up? Your Uncle Happy is coming to spend some time with his favourite nephew whilst Daddy goes for his meeting,” he spoke softly and reassuringly, although it didn’t do him any favours because the moment his words left his lips, the boy’s face immediately scrunched up and his bottom lip trembled.
“No,” Peter whimpered. “Daddy stay with Peter.”
Jesus, the poor kid only now seemed to notice that the man was dressed smartly in one of his expensive suits.
Tony’s heart broke at his kid’s trembling voice and his little plea, as tears formed in his eyes. The father reached up with one hand to cup his child’s soft cheek and catch a fallen tear on his thumb as it fell.
“I’m sorry, baby, I wish I could. You know that I would stay and play with you all day if I didn’t have important work to see to,” the man explained.
“But Auntie Pep can do your work and you stay here?” Peter said, toying on his bottom lip with his pointer finger as his big doe eyes begged the man to stay with him. God, this kid was so damn smart, but he was so damn innocent still.
Despite the gloominess of the situation, Tony couldn’t help but chuckle at his kid’s optimism. “It’s not that simple, honey. Pepper isn’t the head of the company, so there are some things that she can’t do, but guess who can?”
“You,” the little boy mumbled, reaching up to rub at his nose as he sniffled.
The billionaire smiled, sadly, rubbing his hands up and down his son’s arms in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture. “Exactly, buddy, good job. If I don’t show up, then I would get a big telling off and you wouldn’t want that to happen to Daddy, right?”
“No…”
Tony couldn’t stand the completely dejected look on his kid’s usually beaming face; it felt like his insides were being ripped apart. “C’mon, Petey, lemme see that billion-dollar smile,” he coaxed, tickling the boy’s ribs and under his arm pits, two sensitive areas which never failed to get the little one giggling hysterically.
Peter only fidgeted a bit at the move, a stubborn pout protruding on his lips and he crossed his arms to effectively stop his father’s tickling and the elder had no choice but to take his hands away and raise an eyebrow at his kid’s attitude.
“If you can’t stay with me, then Daddy take Peter with!” The boy suddenly announced, tone completely deadpan and leaving no room for argument.
It was quite the statement from a four year-old child, but it amused the father because his kid sounded so much like him. He was just as stubborn and enthusiastic once he got an idea in his head and Peter clearly thought that he had just come up with a brilliant idea, judging by the satisfied glint in his eye, refusing to back down.
“I don’t know about that, buddy.” He couldn’t stop the huge smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, hands gently resting on his son’s hips as he spoke. “A lot of business people don’t like kids, they’re nasty old men who don’t care about anyone, especially little boys like you. You wouldn’t want to sit in a boring room with dudes like that, would you?”
Peter shook his head, his determination not once wavering even if the idea of scary old people scrutinising him did give the child some sense of anxiety. He didn’t care, he only wanted to be with his Daddy.
“I be with Daddy, bad guys don’ matter,” he stated. His fierce attempt at a serious expression was adorable, if not slightly worrying to the concerned father.
Tony caught his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows narrowing as he studied his kid for a moment in pure disbelief. He wasn’t usually left speechless by anybody and always managed to have the last word, but he was pretty much flawed. His four year-old had stunned him, but he supposed it wasn’t the first time Peter had done this, the little bugger had made him incredibly soft and Tony knew it.
He sighed through his nose, leaning forward to scoop the boy up into his arms, staring into his child’s eyes in admiration at his valiant efforts. He supported his son’s lower half with one arm as he playfully bopped his kid’s nose with the other hand, causing it to scrunch up as Peter giggled at the gesture.
“You’re incredible, Pete. Four years old and you’re already leaving your Dad lost for words, what is the world coming to, huh?” Tony spoke, jovially, shaking his head in wonder.
“Love Daddy!” Peter chirped, sweetly.
A soft look crossed the billionaire’s face, paternal love for his child glimmering in his chocolate brown eyes and he leaned forward to rub his nose against the boy’s, giving him an Eskimo kiss. Peter loved these kisses the most and he was in a fit of giggles immediately, squealing with delight at his father’s affections.
“Sir, Mr Hogan has arrived,” JARVIS suddenly announced. Perfect timing.
“Thanks, J,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to his son’s fore-head and making his way out of the boy’s room and down to the foyer. He braced the back of his kid’s head, allowing him to cuddle close since it was the least he could do, because he knew that he was in for one hell of a goodbye in a few moments.
Happy was just walking through the front door when father and son arrived, tucking the car keys into his pocket.
“Hey, Hap. Good drive?”
“As good as it can be. How’s the kid?” The driver asked, gaze drifting to the boy in his best friend’s arms. The sight certainly wasn’t anything new for him, especially when his boss had a business meeting.
“Sulking,” Tony smirked, bouncing his kid gently on his hip, who refused to move his face from the crook of the man’s neck.
“He been good his morning?”
“As good as he can be,” Tony retorted with a cheeky wink and a mischievous smirk. “Nah, he’s been great. He’s just a little cutie-pie, aren’t you, pal?” He spoke with a high lift in his voice, bouncing his kid and tickling across the boy’s rib cage, eliciting some high pitched squeals and bombastic laughter as Peter finally removed his face from the man’s neck.
“There he is, there’s my handsome little guy,” Tony beamed, pleased that his son was now smiling brightly. Speaking too soon… “Hey, Pete, Uncle Happy’s here, you wanna say hi?”
“Hey, buddy,” Happy greeted, walking up to the two with a kind smile.
“Hi, Uncie Happy!” Peter waved and reached over to give the driver a hug, Tony taking the opportunity to transfer the boy into the other man’s arms. Happy squeezed the child warmly and caught his friend’s eye, who smiled sadly and reached over to gently stroke his son’s hair.
Tony leaned in to press a quick kiss to the top of his kid’s head, murmuring in his ear, “See you soon, kiddo. Love you.”
He should have just left as soon as he placed Peter in Happy’s arms, because what followed was definitely all on him. He hated leaving his kid just as much as Peter detested it and it probably would have been better if he had just snuck out, so he didn’t have to put them both through the heavy emotions that came with their separation.
The moment the low goodbye left his lips, Peter suddenly burst into tears. His chest heaved dangerously with his heavy sobs and hitching breaths, both arms reaching out for Tony desperately.
“N-no, D-Dada, don’t go!” Peter howled, cries only increasing as he made grabby hands at his Daddy, whose pained expression caused Happy to make the quick decision to transfer the hysterical child back into his father’s arms. His wailing still persisted even when he was as close as he could be to the man.
“Sh, sh, shh, come on, baby, it’s alright. Shhh, it’s okay, I’m right here, Daddy’s here, sweetheart, shh…” Tony hushed, quietly, subconsciously rocking his son and nuzzling his fluffy curls, affectionately, placing delicate kisses across flushed cheeks and temples. The poor kid was bawling, his face bathed in tears and his grip on his father’s suit jacket exceedingly tight for one so small.
Happy watched on worriedly, eyebrows raised in concern at the boy’s complete meltdown. Tony usually managed to leave before things got this ugly, as Happy, Pepper or Rhodes were able to distract the kid with his Legos or some kind of game, so he wouldn’t bring out the waterworks like this. It wasn’t often that Tony got dragged away to these damn business meetings, so he supposed that it was just too much for the kid this time, as it had been a while since the man had been called away and it explained the extreme outburst from Peter.
The kid eventually managed to calm himself, but it took several minutes of Tony cradling him, rocking him and murmuring sweet nothings into the boy’s hair for Peter’s heart-wrenching sobs to reduce in their volume. He was still crying softly into his Daddy’s shoulder, begging for him to stay.
“Alright, screw this,” Tony spoke after a few more minutes, voice hoarse and rough as he stroked the back of his son’s head whilst continuing to bounce him with his other hand. “I’m taking him with and you’re driving.”
“Wait, you’re what?!” Happy exclaimed.
“There’s no fu-freaking way I’m leaving him here. C’mon, buddy, let’s get your toy,” Tony said, leaving no room for argument, as he hefted the boy higher on his hip and headed back towards Peter’s bedroom. Happy was left standing in the hallway, completely flabbergasted.
The billionaire didn’t relinquish his hold on his son as he allowed the boy to reach for his Iron Man figure, but before he could dash back to Happy, Peter’s squeals of protest stopped him.
“What is it, Pete? We’re gonna be late.”
“Want my crayons, Daddy!”
Tony sighed, grabbing the colourful box that was sat on Peter’s dresser and a little notebook, stuffing them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, before making his way back to the foyer. He didn’t care that he shouldn’t be giving in to his kid’s desires like this; he couldn’t stand listening to those horrible cries and begging anymore, and he figured it would just be easier for everybody if he brought Peter with. He could worry about what the board members would think later.
“Right, let’s go,” Tony ordered, slightly breathless from all the running around, but he was pleased when the driver simply shrugged and followed him to the car. He could always count on Happy to just trust his judgement and go along with whatever he came up with, even if it was ridiculous.
Tony climbed into the back seat, sitting Peter in his lap and pulling the seatbelt over the both of them. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically and he didn’t have the heart to force the kid into his own seat, not after the huge meltdown he had just witnessed. Happy immediately pressed the button to slide the privacy screen up the moment father and son got themselves settled.
Peter appeared pretty content with their seating arrangements, sitting sideways on his father’s lap with his legs stretched out across the next seat and a small smile on his face as he nuzzled it into the man’s sturdy chest. Tony was aware that it wasn’t the safest position for the boy to be in, but he trusted Happy to get them safely to this damn meeting and there was no way the genius was letting his kid leave his arms now after their eventful morning. He felt like he was going to get whiplash soon with all this hot and cold, but he supposed this was what it was like having a little human that took after him.
Tony was drawn out of his thoughts when he felt Peter rummaging inside his suit jacket, fishing out two crayons, one bright red and the other yellow. His other hand was still accommodated with clutching onto his Iron Man figure, which he held close to his chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“What’re you up to, buddy?” Tony asked, fondly, gaze soft as he watched the boy.
“Dwawing,” Peter said and before the man had a chance to decipher what on earth his son was saying, his kid reached up and drew a big red line down his father’s cheek.
Tony should have pulled away, any normal person would if they were expected to look their best at an important business meeting in less than ten minutes. No. The only movement he made was to smile, affectionately, allowing Peter to colour all over his face. God knows what he was mapping out, but Tony simply gave him the freedom to do it.
“We match now, Daddy,” Peter giggled after a few more minutes, giving a little bounce of excitement in his father’s lap as he beamed proudly.
Tony raised an eyebrow at this and took his phone out of his pocket to get the camera up and observe his reflection. Peter had attempted to draw a replica of the Iron Man mask with about as much accuracy and detail a four year-old could muster. It was pretty hilarious considering the fact that if Peter really wanted him to take on his alter ego image, he could have just pressed a button on his StarkWatch and the armour would be there in less than five seconds.
The genius scoffed at his very narcissistic image, but there was no possibility that he was going to spoil his kid’s enjoyment, so he simply cuddled him close and kissed his little nose. “Good boy, you did a great job,” he murmured, resting his fore-head against his son’s and smiling when Peter hummed happily at the praise.
Despite Happy’s excellent driving, they still turned up at the offices about fifteen minutes late into the two hour meeting and Tony gave a little sigh as they pulled up around the back. He secured his hold on his son and climbed out the car, giving his friend an appreciative pat on the shoulder, before dashing into the reception area.
The female receptionist gave him a strange, yet slightly bemused look, but he wasn’t surprised considering the current state of the normally well presented Tony Stark and his young son who was usually kept out of the public eye. A small smile quirked at the corner of her lips as her gaze trailed over the drawing on his face, but she politely chose not to comment on it and sign them in.
Tony took the lift to the top floor, tapping his foot impatiently as he watched the number dial slowly increase.
“Daddy?”
“Hm?”
“Will you still be in twouble?” Peter asked, blinking up at him with wide curious, innocent eyes. “Late?”
“Naahh, I’ve got my armour on. Nothing can get through that, you’re keeping me safe, kiddo,” Tony chuckled, brushing some hair back from his son’s fore-head, who grinned at the comment.
As soon as the doors binged open, the billionaire was off like a shot towards the correct room, not even pausing to knock and instead opting to head straight in. The door banged against the wall as it was slammed open and every head in the room whipped towards the source of the sudden loud noise, many jumping upright in their seats.
“Sorry I’m late. Peter was a nightmare this morning,” Tony said, walking over to the nearest free seat, which happened to be right next to Rhodes.
Everyone was too stunned to speak at the baffling sight of their boss with crayon all over his face and his child dressed in what appeared to be Iron Man pyjamas, clutching an Iron Man figure in his hand as he played with it quietly and ignored the onlookers.
Tony collapsed in the chair, sitting Peter on the table so that he was facing him, and he could give his arms a rest. He didn’t even need to look in his best friend’s direction to know that he was currently on the receiving end of one hell of a perplexed stare.
“Don’t even ask,” was all the exhausted genius could muster, only glancing at him in the corner of his eye.
“Tony…” Pepper, who was standing at the front and had been leading the presentation, sighed vehemently, bracing the side of her face with her hand in despair.
It would be many years later when those closest to Peter would look back on that bizarre turn of events fondly and they would always view the day that Tony Stark decided to take his clingy son to a business meeting as one of the best examples of the billionaire being a great parent. Tony liked to secretly agree.
TAGLIST:
@frogs-in-top-hats @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @marvels-blue-phoenix @irondadbxtch @baloobird @starkaroos2034 @anthony-edward-stark-is-my-hero @fallenstar07 @adaparkwrites @ironically-anticlimactic @joyful-soul-collector @kaitodetective1412 @tonystarkissist @ardenskyedarcy221b @larrybubbles28 @imissyoutoo @doctornineandthreequarters @n3rd4life @dredfulhapiness @jelly-pies @peter-and-tony-vlogs @peterparkerspidgeons @annabanannabeth @nazezdha321 @stark-genius @iron-loyalty
If you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me!
If you would like to support my writing or fanvideos, you can buy me a Ko-fi 🥰
Hey! I’m starting a new hurt/ comfort series and here will be some of the upcoming prompts I will be using. You can also always leave me a prompt and I’ll try and write it :)
1. Fainting
2. Insomnia
3. Nightmares
4. Food poisoning
5. Burns (sunburns or otherwise)
6. Crying
7. Broken arm/leg/wrist/ankle
8. Stitches
9. Bruises
10. Black eye
11. Broken ribs
12. Hiding an injury
13. Migraines
14. Loneliness
15. Poison
16. Hurts to breathe
17. Near-drowning
18. Hypothermia
19. Kidnapping
20. Whooping cough
21. Panic attacks
22. Altitude sickness
23. Bed rest
24. Infected wound
25. Working into exhaustion
26. Trembling
27. Presumed dead
28. Hot drink
29. Chronic pain
30. Heat stroke
31. Self-sacrifice
32. Touch-starved
33. Isolation
34. Sensory overload
35. Bad day at school
36. Arguments
37. Quarantine
38. Assassination attempt
39. Sleeping on the couch
40. A merry, crackling fire
41. Claustrophobia
42. Reconciliation
43.Intrusive thoughts
Go check out a new chapter of A Compiled Pile Of Sick Fics!!!!!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732798/chapters/41836400
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Spider-Man Fanfics Masterlist
I’ve literally only published a handful of these fics so far, but here we are.
Irondad & Spiderson
Multi-Chapter Homeless AU
Lights Will Guide You Home (Ch. 1)
Whumptober
Shaky Hands (Tony taking care of Peter.)
Asks
Peter taking care of Tony/Tony noticing Peter’s strength/Comfort Cuddles (Hurt/Comfort)
I wish you would write a fic where peter has some trouble sleeping and he goes to tony for help
Peter & Harley (a.k.a. brOTP)
A Sickfic (Harley is sick, and Peter takes care of him.)
May & Peter (we stan May Parker on this blog)
Dialed to 11 (Hurt/Comfort)
